


Ace, King and Knave

by wrennette



Series: Trashpile: A Compendium of Unfinished Fics [32]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Blanket Permission, Co-workers to co-parents to lovers, DON'T COPY OR REPOST TO ANOTHER SITE, Ezra has to be a responsible adult because he has a child to care for now, M/M, The boys are all there they're just not the focus so I'm not putting them in the Character tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: A year or so before signing on as a regulator in a dusty western town, Ezra Standish happens across a child who reminds himself far too much of his own past, and steps onto a slightly different path.
Relationships: Chris Larabee & Adam Larabee, Chris Larabee/Ezra Standish, Ezra Standish & Adam Larabee
Series: Trashpile: A Compendium of Unfinished Fics [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/712446
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. A Handful of Aces

**Author's Note:**

> I found this while deep diving in my folders for Evil Author Day, where it has languished in my drafts for almost an entire decade. At this point the parts that are incomplete aren't going to get completed so I'm posting it as is. The pacing is a bit off, but I do really like what I managed to get down before I lost steam, lo those many years ago. 
> 
> Ages are guessed at Adam being seven at the time of the fire, and the series beginning approximately two years post fire, to place the episode “Obsession” three years post fire in accordance with Chris’ dialogue in that episode. At the outset, “A.C.” would have been with Miss Ella for almost a year. Ace is with Ezra for a bit more than a year and a half or so after that, making A.C. around nine when he meets his father again. Assumes series starts mid 1870s, approximately ten years post Civil War, but please don't expect strict historical accuracy or coherent timelines from me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ella reminds Ezra of Maude, and that's not at all a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve played some with the canon appearance Adam has in Chris’ flashbacks

A days staging outside Kansas City, a handsome gambler smiled at him in a friendly way, gold tooth glinting with amusement. But when the brilliantly attired man turned to Miss Ella, his eyes went cold as ice and hard as stone. It made A.C. swallow nervously. If Miss Ella got mad, she’d find a reason to take it out on him. A.C. couldn’t help that his hair had darkened from ruddy gold to bright copper brown in the past year, his eyes settling at a clear pale green like his lost mother’s rather than a tawny hazel green like his half remembered father’s. 

Eyes as pale and green as his own darted over beneath the gambler’s low crowned black hat, and one narrowed in a good humored wink. A.C. couldn’t help but smile back, enjoying that Miss Ella was getting hers but good this evening, even if it meant he’d be paying for it before too long. To his surprise, Miss Ella flounced from the table a few hours later without calling for him to follow, leaving him sitting stunned for a moment. 

Miss Ella had not only lost her stake, she had foolishly gambled away all their travelling money as well as myriad jewels from the reticule that never left her side. She was mad as a wet cat, and he didn’t want to follow after her when she was in that sort of mood. So he watched her go, figuring he had a few cents. The man in the livery would let him sleep the night in the hayloft for that much. Besides, she hadn’t called for him to follow, heeling him like a disobedient cur. Surely that meant he was free to do as he pleased until she sought him out for a scolding.

“Do you have a place to stay the night sir?” the gambler asked softly as the others he had been playing with drifted away, deft hands making the cards dance in his grasp. A.C. shook his head slowly, despite that he was pretty sure the hayloft was a good bet.

“As I believe it is my pecuniary gain at her expense that caused your mother to leave in such a manner, I shall view it my duty as a gentleman to procure you lodgings for the night,” the gambler said. A.C. blinked slowly, then smiled. The gambler had a nice voice, soft and accented with places A.C. had only read about, and he spoke with big words like the ones A.C. liked to sound out in the newspapers and magazines when he and Miss Ella lived in the city. 

“Miss Ella ain’t my ma,” A.C. said confidently. She had never made any pretense of being his mother, and he was glad of that at least. To be forced to call her Ma seemed a terrible thing in his young mind. “She just took me in after the fire. She said she’s gonna find my Pa, and we’ll be a family. But I don’t think Pa will like her much. She ain’t nice like Ma was.” A faint smile curled the gambler’s mouth as A.C. spoke, and finally the cards stilled. 

“I am rather relieved the woman is not your mother, sir,” the gambler said. “She does not seem much the mothering type, if you will forgive me for saying so.” A.C. smiled at that, shaking his head and offering his neat little hand.

“I’m A.C.,” he offered. “I’m glad she ain’t my Ma either.” 

“Ezra P. Standish, at your service,” the gambler said, shaking his hand. “Now, A.C. you say? What say we have a late supper? I’m rather peckish, and then we shall see about finding you a room.” A.C. nodded, still smiling. He liked this green eyed gentleman, with his neat manners and neater clothes, his hair combed back under his well brushed hat, his boots well blacked and spit shined.

The men Miss Ella usually gamed with were much rougher, and none of them would have offered him dinner and a bed after they’d taken all her money. Then again, if Miss Ella had lost all her money to the type of player she usually sat down with, she would probably send him to the livery herself, and show up in the morning late and looking sleepy. One night he had followed her to the hotel room of one of the men she lost to, and quickly thereafter found his way to the livery on his own, blushing profusely from the sounds he had heard. They had taken rooms above saloons and in bordellos enough that even at not quite nine, A.C. knew well the sound of sex.

A.C. had seen the same offering looks as usual on Miss Ella’s face this evening as she was losing, but this gambler hadn’t responded in kind. He hadn’t given Miss Ella the chance to privately discuss other payment, would only take money or jewels. So A.C. was on his own until she could raise them enough to get back on the stage to Red Fork, the long and winding trip back west they had been at for what seemed like years now. 

After his Ma had died in the fire, the man had taken him to Miss Ella, and they had ridden on the train east, to Kansas City where they stayed a while, then on to St. Louis, and from there to Chicago. They had stayed in Chicago the longest, until Miss Ella had decided it was time to find his Pa. Ever since, they had been travelling town to town, by rail and stage, hunting a ghost with the shape of a man.

By the time they finished a late supper at the bustling restaurant, the hotels were all filled, and so were the cheap rooms above the saloon where the girls did their business. Since becoming the charge of Miss Ella, A.C. had spent enough time in saloons to know that business. He liked the girls, and hated when Miss Ella spoke snidely about them. 

Miss Ella was no better in his opinion, possibly quite worse. When it became apparent there was no room to be had, A.C. quietly offered that it would be no trouble for him to stay in the livery, after all, he had many a time before. At that, the gambler squatted down, looking him very seriously in the eye. 

“Sir, I would never permit such a thing,” the gambler said firmly. “I have slept in too many liveries myself to allow a young gentleman such as yourself to do the same when it is in my power to prevent it. No.” He stood, turning back to the tired clerk. “Send a spare tick and blankets to my room,” he ordered, then looked back to A.C. “You shall have the bed good sir, I imagine it has been longer since you had a good nights sleep than I, and I wager I am more used to irregular hours.” A.C. waited a long moment, trying to determine if this man could be trusted. He had been as good as his word so far, and he didn’t give A.C. the creepy-crawly feeling that some men did, men who tried to touch him where he didn’t much like others touching him.

“Alright,” A.C. said, and the man nodded with a little smile that told A.C. he understood exactly the thoughts that had been in A.C.’s head. The gambler lead him up to the room, gave him the key, then glanced at him measuringly.

“I shall be returning to the tables for a time,” the gambler said, then made a strange little twitch of the hand, and a tiny two-shot pistol was cradled in his palm. Silently the gambler handed the pocket pistol to A.C. He looked from the little gun in his hands to the gambler, surprise widening his eyes. The gambler merely smiled, then opened his saddlebags and produced a matching little gun. 

“That one, good sir, is yours for so long as we keep company. It works like any pistol, but only two shots, and only good at close range due to the small calibre. Should anyone but I or a servant come through that door, you would be entirely within your rights to discharge the weapon. Come, I’ll teach you the use of it.” 

A.C. swallowed at that. The gambler was offering him a gun and lessons on how to shoot it; more protection than Miss Ella had ever given him despite that A.C. knew she carried her own set of pocket pistols, pearl handled and rather more silvery and engraved than this plain but very serviceable pair. 

Quickly and deftly the gambler showed him how to work the miniature mechanisms of the gun, how to load it properly and clean it after it had been fired. When that was accomplished, the man produced a small bag of bullets, pressing them into A.C.’s hand. By the time they finished, the spare tick had been brought up, the servant setting it up cat-a-corner to the bed.

“Very good. I shall see you come morning good sir,” the gambler said, then rechecked his multiple weapons, brushed invisible dirt from his jacket, straightened his cuffs and waistcoat, and disappeared out of the room with a jaunty two fingered salute. 

“Thank you sir,” A.C. said softly as the door snicked closed, then toed out of his boots and curled onto the bed in his clothes. His belongings, such as they were, would be wherever Miss Ella had intended to find lodging for the night. But she had stopped at the saloon before going to the hotel, for a drink and a game, not leaving until this kind gambler had taken everything she had. A.C. grinned to himself. And tonight, he didn’t even have to pay for it. 

A.C.'s smile dimmed somewhat. Miss Ella's anger wouldn’t fade with time, not until some other strong emotion captured her mercurial attention. The only things the same in her day to day were her capriciousness and her desire to find Pa. Worry chasing in his mind, A.C. finally dropped off into a restless slumber. He woke many hours later, when the gambler ghosted nearly silently into the room. Carefully A.C. eased the hammer from fully cocked back to half-cocked as he recognized the gambler, slipping the little pistol back under the pillow where it had been earlier. 

The gambler moved with quiet grace, lifting the chair from near the vanity and wedging it under the handle of the door. Next, the window was opened and an empty bottle set on the floor beneath to serve as an alarm. A.C. was certain that despite that they were on the second storey, his host could easily slip away if trouble presented itself. 

Satisfied, the gambler nudged the laid out tick over near the closed door, then lay it across. That taken care of, the gambler rolled himself in his blankets fully dressed but for his hat and the gun rigs laid on the floor next to him. Well, save one. The nifty little rig that had been strapped to his forearm he put on the dresser next to his hat, the miniature pistol remaining in his palm, and then all was still once more, and A.C. slowly drifted back to sleep. 

A.C. woke with a start much later, sitting abruptly in the soft bed. The room was full of golden mid morning light, and the town moved along out on the street. For a moment he thought the late night intrusion a dream; the chair sat back near the vanity, the window was merely cracked rather than fully opened. The gambler was whistling cheerfully, going deftly about his morning ritual to greet the day. 

As A.C. watched silently from the bed the man shouldered out of his braces and removed his rumpled white shirt. A trilling whistle, then the man was washing his face and chest and under his arms, finishing with his neat hands. He cleaned his teeth and then bared them at the mirror, checking over the even white row with its gold canine. Then the gambler cleaned and filed his nails before getting out his shaving kit. 

Carefully the man whipped up a deal of pleasant smelling lather, then shaved his face, the lethal razor glittering in the sunlight as it moved easily over his pale skin. A rub of lotion over face and hands, and the gambler smiled at his reflection contentedly. A comb appeared next, and with it a little tin of pomade. The whistling continued as the man wet-combed his hair, then went over it again with a dab of scented pomade. When he was clean and coiffed, the man unwrapped a clean white shirt from a packing of brown paper. 

Those agile fingers proved as deft with buttons as with cards, and in a twinkling, the man had himself dressed again. The shirt was pristine, each ruffle perfectly pressed, and over it he buttoned on a fresh waistcoat, although he shrugged into the same deep blue jacket he had worn the day before, after brushing it thoroughly. His guns were already buckled on at that point, including the little palm pistol in its ingenious carrier. 

“Sir?” A.C. asked softly, and the man’s eyes found his in the mirror. 

“Yes sir?” The gambler asked, not at all startled. 

“Sir, do you - do you think I could sit with you at the tables? Miss Ella won’t miss me much. She don’t really want me, just to find my Pa.” The gambler swallowed thickly. 

“I - I shall have to think on it A.C.,” the gambler said after a moment, then sighed, crossing to perch on the edge of the bed. “A.C., is Madame Petrie - she is not a gambler by profession is she?” 

“No sir. She’s pretty good, plays a lot, but I don’t reckon she has a profession. At least, not that I know of. I - she says when we find my Pa we’ll have us a horse ranch, just like Ma an’ Pa had. But I - I don’t think she knows too much about it. Think that was just what Pa did.” The gambler sighed, looking away from him, hands fidgeting a bit on his neatly brushed hat.

“I spent most of my childhood in saloons and gaming houses A.C.,” the gambler said with soft regret. “And I have learned to profit by that experience. But it - it is not the place for a young man of quality such as yourself. I - I am loathe to return you to the dubious care of - that woman, but I - I cannot in good conscience let you sit at the gaming tables with me. Not when with every hand there is a chance my honor will be called into question and I will have to defend it with my life.” 

A.C. swallowed thickly. He understood well enough, having seen more than one gambler discharge a hideaway gun at close range, dropping a man who had come over the table at him with accusations. But he had already spent the time since the fire in bordellos and saloons, and other places of low reputation.

“I could watch your back,” A.C. offered. “I - I know I haven’t got much practice, but I like you sir. Like you a whole hell of a lot better than Miss Ella.”

“Language young man,” the gambler reprimanded mildly, a faint smile on his mouth. “You would truly rather spend the day in company of a known charlatan and mountebank than return to your guardian?”

“You haven’t hit me yet, or even threatened to,” A.C. said with a shrug, and the gambler paled slightly. 

“Mrs. Petrie has raised her hand against you?” the gambler asked, that cold hard look from the night before back in his eyes. A.C. nodded slowly, suddenly afraid of the man. The man seemed to understand that and slumped back slightly, reaching up to card his fingers through his impeccable hair, mussing it rakishly. 

“I could never hurt a child,” the gambler said gently, and A.C. instinctively believed him. “Nor a lady, although I doubt your Miss Ella could be accorded that amount of gentility if she has indeed assaulted your person. Very well. You may be my attendant today. I took the liberty of having the clerk search out your luggage when I sent for the kettle, so you may as well get up, wash, and change, then we’ll find our morning meal.” 

A.C. smiled broadly, and in a show of trusting affection that had been smothered the past year or so, he lunged forward to hug his new companion tightly. After a moment of surprised stillness, the gambler gently hugged him back. When they parted, A.C. dropped his head with a blush. The gambler simply chuckled and ruffled his hair though, then went back to the little mirror and took out his comb, deftly setting himself to rights. 

Pleased at such neatness, certain his mother would approve of this man, A.C. slipped from the bed and used the remainder of the kettle to wash up, then changed into a fresh set of clothes from his valise. When A.C. finished dressing, the gambler looked him over appraisingly, straightened his hair slightly, then gave him a broad smile. A.C. couldn’t help but return the smile with one of his own, and when the gambler good-naturedly bowed him from the room, A.C. copied the two fingered salute the gambler had given him the night before. The gambler let out a low chortle of amusement, then led him to the hotel dining room for a very nice breakfast.

“Now,” the gambler said when he had paid their bill. “I need to exercise my mount. As you’ve stated you have some experience with horses, I believe you may be of assistance. Should you be interested in accompanying me, of course.” A.C. grinned broadly. A gun _and_ a horse. Well, the horse wasn’t really his, nor was the gun, but still. 

“Hazard is unused to much company other than myself,” the gambler warned as they approached the livery. “He is rather spirited, and we must be patient with him.” A.C. nodded. He hadn’t really spent a lot of time with the horses before the fire, but he remembered watching from the porch as his Pa gentled colts.

Hazard turned out to be a compact horse with wonderful proportions and plenty of bottom. He had a finely featured face with a scooped forehead and neatly inward curving ears. He had a barrel chest and powerful legs, his bright copper coat gleaming like silk. A.C. was certain he had never seen a finer horse, except perhaps for the big black his father had ridden, or Uncle Buck’s long legged gray mare. 

“He’s a gaited horse,” the gambler said proudly, stroking the velvety soft nose that was presented over the stall door, then opening his pocket knife and peeling open a twist of peppermints. One candy went to the horse, another to A.C., and the last one disappeared into the gambler’s own mouth with a little smile. “Unlike many such horses though, brave Hazard has stamina and speed to complement his smoothness,” the gambler continued, still stroking the horse’s nose, then opening the stall door and chivvying Hazard back in as he tried to exit.

“He’s lovely,” A.C. said admiringly, and the gambler smiled, then handed him a currycomb. They brushed the horse for a time, earning pleased shudders and soft nickers of delight. When Hazard was bright as new copper, the gambler saddled him deftly, then led the gelding out. 

“Up you go then,” the gambler said, holding the chestnut’s head, and A.C. felt his eyes widen in delighted surprise. “I said you would help me did I not?” The gambler asked, then attached a long lead to Hazard’s leather headstall and picked up a coachwhip that had seen better days. A.C. nodded, clutching both hands about the pommel of the saddle as the gambler led him to one of the empty corrals. There, for a few golden hours, A.C. rode while the gambler put the smooth gaited gelding through his paces. 

When the gambler was satisfied, he helped A.C. down, then began on other lessons for the horse, winking at A.C. as he tested Hazard in how to play sick, how to fake lameness, how to steal the wallet or gun or flask from a man’s coat or trouser pocket. Hazard was already quite good at these tricks, and A.C. laughed delightedly as over and again the neatly made head nudged against him, agile lips questing for various secreted targets. When the sun was an hour or so past its zenith, the gambler stopped the lesson, then handed the lead to A.C. 

“I shall go open the stall, if you will escort our companion in. Then, I believe, it shall be time for our midday repast.” A.C. nodded, chest puffing with importance as the gambler strolled away. Reaching up, A.C. stroked Hazard’s velvety nose, then kissed it gently.

“You’re the best horse ever,” A.C. confided with soft assurance. “The best, smartest horse ever. When I grow up, I’m gonna have a horse just like you.” He hugged Hazard’s neck; then, not wanting the gambler to be disappointed that he hadn’t followed orders, A.C. led the gelding into the livery. Hazard went calmly, nuzzling occasionally between A.C.’s shoulder blades and snuffling at his hair. In the stall, they once again brushed the reddish gelding down, then poured him a measure of feed and made sure his water bucket was full.

After lunch, A.C. accompanied the gambler to the store, where more bullets were bought for the little pocket pistols, as well as the pair of full sized guns the gambler wore and the repeating rifle secreted in his room. There was also another twist of peppermint, and a new deck of cards silently given over to A.C. before they continued on to the saloon. A.C. settled in with a mug of mostly milk but a bit of coffee and sugar mixed in for pretense, the gambler taking a glass of Bourbon and another of water. They played a few idle hands of rummy, A.C. growing increasingly fidgety until the gambler chuckled softly.

“You prefer poker then?” the gambler asked, and A.C. looked up in surprise, then grinned broadly.

“I can beat Miss Ella,” A.C. said confidently. “But I make sure not to,” A.C. finished more quietly. The gambler chuckled again, then gathered the cards, executed a fancy bit of shuffling and dealt them each five.

“Don’t hold back against me sir,” the gambler advised, and A.C. grinned. The first few hands, he thought the gambler was going easy on him perhaps. But then those pale eyes narrowed slightly, and although their idle conversation continued, A.C. knew he had his host’s attention. Although they were only playing back and forth for the bullets to the pocket pistols, poker was poker, and for the gambler it was obviously serious business.

“Well,” the gambler said after a few more hands, tossing down his hand disgustedly. “I must have misheard when you introduced yourself sir. I had thought you said your name was A.C., but obviously Ace would be a more apt moniker.” A.C. grinned, showing his hand, black and black Kings over Knaves with a wild card, deuce of hearts as the kicker. The gambler smiled ruefully, then deftly re-split the pot so they would both have plenty of bullets for reloading. “You’ve obviously spent your time at the tables well sir,” the gambler said and A.C. couldn’t help but preen a bit under the compliment.

“One more game?” A.C. requested, not wanting to go look for Miss Ella yet.

“Of course good sir,” the gambler said, then nudged the cards over to him. “Your deal.” A.C. grinned, taking the deck and shuffling. He didn’t know any fancy fans or anything, but his small hands were sure on the cards, aligning them expertly. He dealt out the hand, carefully keeping a placid face. He was sure the gambler by now had all his tells, but he was fairly confident he didn’t have many. After all, living with Miss Ella was sort of like one long bluff.

Once more adults began to filter into the room, the gambler pulled a handful of coinage from his pocket, sliding it across the table to A.C. along with his half of the bullets. A.C. looked up quickly, knowing his poker face had dropped away but too hurt to care. He had thought the gambler was different, maybe even cared about him a little.

“Get yourself something to eat,” the gambler said gently. “It looks to be another late night, and I remember how hungry those can be for a growing young gentleman like yourself. There will be a chair waiting for you at my shoulder when you return.” A.C. swallowed thickly and nodded, grateful tears burning at the corners of his eyes. He dashed them away quickly, not wanting to embarrass them both with an untoward display of emotion. After all, he knew little about the gambler other than his name and the name of his horse, and that he was a southerner with a deft hand at cards.

As promised, the gambler was still there when A.C. returned. A few other men had joined the gambler at the table, and the gambler was conversing amiably with them as he steadily but not too conspicuously won their money. A.C. settled into the empty chair at the gambler’s elbow, studying his hand, then the countenances of the other players. 

“Good looking boy you’ve got there,” a rotund older man said, nodding at A.C. 

“Thank you,” the gambler replied, not refuting that A.C. was his. “He takes after his mother actually.” A.C. smiled at that. He knew the gambler was speaking in ignorance, but it was the truth. That was part of the reason Miss Ella despised him so, because these days he looked more like Ma than Pa. 

There was a bit more idle conversation, A.C. sometimes contributing. The players changed occasionally, the gambler deftly defusing any situation that might devolve into violence. Around midnight, when the table had cleared momentarily, the gambler once more glanced back at him, the first time in a while.

“Well, do you fancy supper Ace?” the gambler asked, and A.C. grinned.

“Yes please sir,” he said enthusiastically, and the gambler smiled, sorting his money and then disappearing it, then offering A.C. his hand. 

“Come along then,” the gambler said, and happily A.C. slipped his hand into the gambler’s larger one, and they walked down to the restaurant. They ate well, and then it was back to the hotel, where A.C. went without complaint to bed, talking cheerfully with the man he was coming to think of as his protector and friend.

“Mr. Standish sir?” A.C. asked as the gambler bent to blow out the lamp, and the gambler looked back to him. Something in his face must have given him away, because the gambler’s face went serious all of a sudden, and he crossed back to the bed and sat, leaving the light burning. 

“Mr. Standish, I don’t want to go back to Miss Ella,” A.C. said with soft urgency. “Please, don’t make me? I promise I’ll be good. I can take care of Hazard, and with a little practice I could be even better at poker. I’d be real good.” The gambler’s face softened.

“I know you’d be good Ace,” the gambler said softly. “I just - I don’t know that I’d be terribly good for you. What if something were to happen to me Ace? My mother certainly wouldn’t take you in, and I have no one else. Miss Ella may not be much for taking care of a growing boy, but is she that bad?” The gambler sighed, obviously reading the answer on A.C.’s face, his masks shattered by his desperation not to go back to Miss Ella. 

“You really think you could live like this?” the gambler asked. “Wandering from saloon to saloon, never certain if your bed that night might be a feather bed in a grand hotel or the hard ground of the trail with a posse crying for your blood?” Again he must have read the answer on A.C.’s face. “I see,” the gambler sighed. “I - how long before she looks for you Ace?” A.C. shrugged in response, not sure. He had never stayed away so long, never had any option but to go back to her if he wanted food and a roof over his head. “I see,” the gambler said again, but his voice was hard now. His eyes went distant, his finger coming up to tap at his lower lip.

“We would need a horse for you, I do not like being dependent upon the stage for transportation. Another pair of derringers, for a man must have his own guns. Tack and luggage for the horse, a few other things.” The gambler sighed again, eyes fixing back on A.C. “I will think on it Ace. I can promise you nothing at the moment, for once I give my word I shall not break it. But I will think on it. That I can promise you.” A.C. nodded, knowing that was the best he could hope for at the moment. The gambler sighed and leaned over, kissing him softly on the forehead just like his mother used to. 

“Sleep,” the gambler urged. “I’ll see you in the morning.” A.C. nodded, worn by his display of emotions. He snuggled down into the mattress, sighing softly. The gambler ruffled his hair, and then the door snicked closed as he went back down to the saloon. A.C. didn’t wake when the gambler came into the room again a few hours later, and the man silently watched him sleep for a little while, then sighed and made his usual precautionary arrangements before he again laid the spare mattress across the doorway and rolled himself into the blankets. 

A.C. woke in mid morning, yawning sleepily. The gambler was still laid out on the tick on the floor, his face relaxed in repose. A.C. smiled watching him, again reminded of his mother. Carefully he eased from the bed and pulled out his clothes, then changed as quietly as possible and washed his face with the cold water from the basin. As A.C. finished, the gambler sat up, fully awake in an instant. A.C. started somewhat in surprise, but after a couple wary blinks, the gambler smiled at him, then stood.

“Good morning Ace,” the gambler said, crossing to him and ruffling his hair. A.C. shot a dark look up at his temporary guardian, displeased that his nicely combed hair was so quickly mussed. “Ah,” the gambler said. “I apologize. Your mother raised you well. Let me perform my morning ablutions, then we shall break our fast.” A.C. nodded, taking out the new deck of cards he had been gifted and shuffling them between his fingers distractedly as he waited. When the gambler had dressed, he cleared his throat softly, and A.C. darted to his feet, smiling hopefully and reaching for the gambler’s hand.

Breakfast was quiet, but after they again visited Hazard. Today, after they saddled the gelding and the gambler looked A.C. up into the saddle, he came around and mounted behind the boy. A.C. was half on the gambler’s lap, but Hazard’s long stride was smooth and easy as he walked out of town, then sped into a comfortable slow gait at the gambler’s gentle touch. An hour or so away, the gambler dismounted, then offered his hand to A.C. 

“You have your gun?” The gambler asked, and A.C. nodded. The gambler smiled, then set a small stone on a large boulder. “Two paces, knock the pebble off.” A.C. swallowed thickly, then nodded. He measured out the two paces, then sighted carefully. It took him both shots, but then the pebble skittered to the ground. “Reload, then try again,” the gambler instructed, settling the pebble back in place. “You may not have time for a second shot.” A.C. nodded, squaring his shoulders and aiming again. 

“When you can knock it loose five times in succession on the first shot, move two paces further away, do it again,” the gambler instructed, then moved away a bit and began to work on tricks with the gelding. A.C. nodded again, and for the next few hours they worked on his marksmanship and Hazard’s ability to play sick, hurt, or thief. By the time mid afternoon came around, A.C. could consistently knock the pebble loose five shots in a row from six paces. 

The gun didn’t have the power or precision for distances much further than that, but A.C. promised his aim would get even better. It helped that there was very little recoil on the miniature weapon. Eventually, A.C.’s stomach was growling audibly. He hadn’t dared complain, not wanting to disrupt the gambler he wanted so badly to stay with. The gambler looked over, obviously having heard. One eyebrow rose in question, and A.C. flushed ashamedly and looked at the ground.

“There’s no shame in it Ace,” the gambler said softly. “You should have asked me to take you back to town for lunch before you were so hungry you rumbled. I cannot make promises regarding the future, but for now, I will do what I can to ensure you are safe and well fed. Now. Luncheon.” A.C. nodded, still a bit flushed, but gladly accepted a leg up onto the gelding. Again the gambler mounted behind him, and they rode at a showy rack into town, Hazard lifting his feet with the exaggerated motion his breed was known for.

Poker for markers followed lunch, and as on the night before, the gambler sent A.C for an early supper as other players began to come looking for a real game. When he returned, A.C. again settled into the chair at his erstwhile protector’s shoulder, watching the progression of the game. He began yawning a bit before midnight, his eyes drooping. The next time there was a break in play, the gambler asked him if he wanted a late supper before bed. Receiving a sleepy shake of the head for an answer, the gambler gathered him up gently and brought him back to the hotel. A.C. was too tired that night to press the gambler on the situation, and he slept deeply until morning.

Again A.C. woke first, yawning slowly awake and then lazing in the warmth of the bed. Before long the gambler blinked awake in his mattress laid across the door. He glanced over at A.C. before he rose, smiling gently. A.C. smiled back warily, wanting to keep trusting this man, but unsure what would become of him. The gambler’s smile faded slightly, and he bowed his head in recognition of what he read on A.C.’s face. Both of them were quieter that day, A.C. wanting to give the gambler time to think over what A.C. had proposed, and the gambler taking that time.

They were just getting up from their luncheon when Miss Ella swept into the all but empty restaurant, her dark eyes flashing as they darted through the room. The gambler drew himself up, shifting subtly to place himself between A.C. and his regular guardian. Miss Ella stopped short as her eyes pinned them, her face souring. She was not as beautiful, he thought, as his Ma, but she was pretty enough in her way when she was in a good mood. It was obvious that she was not in a good mood.


	2. King Takes Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra wins the custody dispute, hits the road with Ace, and manages to pass himself off as a responsible adult.

“Madame Petrie,” the gambler greeted coolly.

“Mr. Standish,” she hissed in return, then shifted her eyes to him. “Adam Christopher, come here,” she ordered, and he unconsciously took a step forward. The gambler’s hand on his shoulder stilled him, and he quivered in place with anticipation. The gambler squeezed his shoulder gently, then squatted at his side, looking into his eyes.

“You truly wish to stay with me Ace?” The gambler asked, eyes searching A.C.’s face, and the boy nodded eagerly. The gambler nodded once in return, then stood and turned back to Miss Ella. “It has come to my attention Madame Petrie, that you are neither the child’s mother, nor his legal guardian. As he has expressed the wish to remove himself from your protection, I feel myself honor bound to assist him. While I make no claims as to whether I would be a better guardian or not, the boy has asked me to claim that title.” Miss Ella’s eyes narrowed further, her lips pressing into a thin white line. She was downright ugly with anger, her cheeks spotting with rage.

“It's not enough you nearly ruin me at cards?" Miss Ella hissed. "The boy is no prize. You want the little hellion?!” Miss Ella grit out. “Take him. Take the damn boy, and to hell with both of you,” she snarled, then faced A.C. directly. ”I’ll find him, just you wait. I’ll find him and tell him you died with your mother in the fire, you damned little brat.” She turned on her heel and stalked off, tense with anger. A.C. felt his eyes prickle with tears, not sad but not sure how else to release the swell of emotion that had roared up in him. The gambler’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and he was once more face to face with the man.

“I suppose your Uncle Ezra shall be looking after you now, Ace,” the man said with a soft, sad smile, and A.C. lunged into his arms, holding tight to the gambler.

“I’m sorry,” A.C. sobbed softly. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be such a baby, I just-”

“It’s alright Ace,” the gambler cut him off. “Hush now, it’s alright. Let’s go to the hotel. We should think about getting out of town as soon as we’re outfitted. I doubt it will take that woman long to realize that she has lost the only bargaining chip she has for your father’s affections.” A.C. nodded, not really understanding but willing to go along with his new guardian, not wanting to be any trouble. 

A.C.’s newly appointed Uncle Ezra tightened strong arms about him, and then he was being lifted. It was a babyish thing, he was certain, but it felt awful nice to be carried. Later that afternoon, when he had regained his composure and had a little nap, Uncle Ezra took him to the gunsmiths, and bought him his own pair of pocket guns.

A few days after the confrontation with Miss Ella, A.C. rode out of town just after dawn on a hastily bought little gelding. It wasn’t half as nice a horse as Hazard, and he knew that Uncle Ezra had only taken it because it was the best they could do on short notice. They travelled where they wished, Uncle Ezra gaming at the tables at night and teaching Hazard tricks by day.

Uncle Ezra also began teaching Ace from a book they picked up in one of the towns they passed through. There was reading, which Ace was already fairly skilled at, but also arithmetic and soon Latin, philosophy and theology and etiquette and conversation skills. And at night when Uncle Ezra was gaming, Ace learned as well, mesmerized by the fancy shuffles and calculation of odds, watching for tells and bluffs.

A.C. couldn’t say for certain what his family name was, but he could spell out his first name readily, and he quite liked his new nickname of Ace. By the time they had been together for a month, he was easily introducing himself as Ace Standish, sometimes dealing three card Monte or operating a shell game as they passed through towns. Uncle Ezra always gave him a stake to start with, and he soon learned the tricks of hiding it in his shoes and various pockets. 

During the horse lessons in the mornings, Uncle Ezra began teaching him other, more physical skills, how to shinny up and down trees or drain pipes, and throw a solid punch. How to take a hit without being too badly hurt and a few slippery moves to free himself from a larger attacker. There were also lessons in lock picking and knots, all the little gimmicks a professional gambler might need, and a boy would want to know.

When they passed through Dodge, Uncle Ezra traded Ace's mongrel gelding for a well bred horse of Ace’s own, a Tennessee mare called Rambling Rose. She was a sweet tempered thing, her gaits as sure and smooth as Hazard’s. Ace loved Rosie from the start, from the tips of her pointed ears to her glossy hooves, and every blood-sorrel inch in between. Rosie was somewhat smaller and slimmer than Hazard, but that was just as well given his own smaller size. 

From Dodge, they moved on to the north and west, passing through Denver and into silver country. There Uncle Ezra won big and won often, and took to shooting Ace long speculative looks.

“Would you want to settle down?” Ezra asked one night in their hotel room. “You said your parents owned a horse ranch near Eagle Bend, and I cannot - I know you enjoy travelling with me, but wouldn’t you like a permanent home?” Ace swallowed thickly, not sure how to answer. He missed having a home, yes, but he didn’t want to ask the itinerant gambler to settle down, not unless it was what he wanted too.

“When I was your age, travelling with my mother, all I wanted was a home,” Uncle Ezra said softly. Ace swallowed thickly. He had learned quickly that Uncle Ezra didn’t talk much about his past, and when he did it seemed to make him sad. Miss Maude, Ace thought, was probably a bit like Miss Ella, not a nice lady like Ma. 

“I - since then I have wandered, never really thinking on my other options. But I had begun, since the war, to think I might like a place of my own. A saloon perhaps, I thought for some time. But I - I have always liked horses, and a ranch, it could be a good place for a man and his boy. There is - there is a man in Georgia who owes me a small debt of honor, and could make payment with good stock with which to start such a ranch.”

“You’d really want to?” Ace asked in a rush, feeling his eyes go big with hope.

“I want to give you a good home Ace,” Uncle Ezra said gently. “I know I’m not your Pa, and if I had the slightest idea who he was, I’d find him so you could be together again. But I - I do want you to have a proper home and a real childhood, like I wish I had.” Ace grinned and launched himself into his uncle’s arms, hugging him tight. Ezra laughed delightedly, embracing him tightly. 

“Alright,” Ezra laughed. “We’ll find ourselves a spread near Eagle Bend. I want to settle in that area, in case your father is still in the neighborhood. And the New Mexico Territory is still wild enough that I think we won’t have too much trouble finding a good place for a reasonable sum.”

A few weeks later they set out on a wandering journey south to the New Mexico Territory. Ezra won a beautiful, gaited, flaxen-maned liver-chestnut yearling colt in Durango, and promptly named him Hearts and Diamonds, after the hand of kings full of knaves that had procured him. The name was further helped by the fact he had a perfect white diamond marking set between his eyes, and a spot of white on his off hind fetlock that could, if properly squinted at, appear to be something like a heart. 

The colt wasn’t trained, or old enough yet to breed. But he had a sweet temperament and good proportions, and in addition he came with a five hundred dollar pot. So, taking that as a sign, they rode into Four Corners, with the colt ponied behind, and Uncle Ezra took rooms at the hotel for the coming week.

Four Corners was the closest town to Eagle Bend, a long day’s ride south-westerly on the stage road. It was a rough, unsettled town, on the edge of the dry lowcountry, given to shootings in the streets and robberies in broad daylight. It wasn’t a place to settle, in Uncle Ezra’s opinion, but it was a place he could win big at poker without the law sticking their nose where he didn’t want it. All told, Uncle Ezra had a few thousand dollars put together in anticipation of them getting a place, and didn’t really need more. But once they purchased a spread, it would need furnishing, and Ace knew his guardian never liked to travel without an excess of funds.

When they had done a little asking around, Uncle Ezra learned that the old Svenssen place between Four Corners and Eagle Bend had been on the market for a few years. The bank had repossessed it when old Lars Svenssen went back east some years before, his son and son’s family dead in a sweeping epidemic. It was a nice piece of land with adjacent water, up in the better watered foothills that didn’t dry out as much as the flats closer to Four Corners.

There was plenty of timber on the property, and a few fields cleared that had been cultivated in the past and left fallow since Mr. Svenssen left the area. The land was in the high country of prairies and mountains, not the dry deserts of the lowcountry, and there was even a house and barn, although no one could vouch for their condition. It was overall a good piece of property, and at a very good price. They took it, and bought a buckboard full of supplies on their last day in town.

Standing was all that could be said for the house when they arrived late that afternoon behind the rented mules. It was the mere shell of a building, the glass gone from the windows and leaves blown in to rot against the walls. Ace thought it might have been a nice place once; there were two floors and lots of space, a big four top cast iron stove mouldering in the kitchen and a handful of outbuildings around back. It would take a lot of work. Thankfully, it was summer yet, the rainy season past, and when he had incentive, Uncle Ezra knew how to work. 

A roof over their heads and solid walls and flooring were powerful incentives, and within a few weeks the shell was complete and the interior thoroughly cleaned, although it would take a while longer for glass to arrive. In the meantime, Uncle Ezra nailed greased paper over the windows. It kept flies and other unpleasantness on the outside, and let a bit of light through to the inside, and for the moment, that was enough. Once the house was livable, they went about fixing the barn. 

The barn was in somewhat better shape to start with than the house, and soon their little three horse herd was resting comfortably in cleaned and repaired stalls while they worked on the other stabling and made sure everything was sound. Once a week they went into town to buy supplies, and while they were there they would take a room in the hotel and have a nice dinner, and Uncle Ezra would play hand after hand of poker, winning frequently but knowing well how to stay in the good graces of the townsfolk with whom they had thrown in their lot.

On one such excursion Uncle Ezra sent word to the man in Georgia who owed him money, telling him he would take payment in stock, to be sent in the spring. Not sure about the bloodlines of Hearts and Diamonds despite that he was a promising looking colt, Uncle Ezra specified that the lot was to include a proven stallion as well as mares. He also required that all the stock be gaited horses, and made clear that if he found them insufficient, he would hold that the debt had not been paid in full. 

As well as horses, and knowing that it would mean he had fewer breeding mares, Uncle Ezra also requested that a pair of good strong jack mules be sent, preferably of quality Tennessee stock. For the thousand dollars he was owed, Uncle Ezra told Ace, they should get a good stallion, the pair of jacks, and two or three quality mares, with the remainder of the money procuring transportation to the nearest railhead. 

Already convinced that Ace’s mare Rosie would breed well, Uncle Ezra and Ace began debating whether it would be wise to use her simply as a broodmare, and geld Hearts and Diamonds, or continue to use her as Ace’s riding horse. It was a hard decision, because Rosie was his, but Ace eventually agreed that a gelding simply made more sense for an everyday horse than a mare. The decision was made somewhat easier, by Uncle Ezra’s promise that Ace would hold the ultimate say, that he might change his mount at any time, and that he would be the owner of Rosie for all time, and the half owner of her colts.

By the time the temperatures began to dip into wintry lows, the house was warm and snug, although more than large enough for a single man and his boy. The barn was snug as well, Hearts and Diamonds recuperating nicely from his castration. In his poker games, Ezra won not only cash money but exotic odds and ends that decorated strange corners, and bought others at reduced prices from families that had given up on making it out west. 

A reed organ appeared one week, a few weeks later a plush carpet with brilliant and ornate designs for the parlor. Ace learned to play the organ at his uncle’s side. At night when it was just the two of them, they would play poker for chores until it was time for bed, or Uncle Ezra would have him read from the various books that had begun to accumulate.

When they had been living at the old Svenssen place a few good months, they designed a brand for their horses and hired a housekeeper. She was an older Mexican woman whose dark hair was streaked liberally with white, smile lines carved deep around her eyes and mouth. Abuelita, she told them to call her. Her own family had moved on looking for work in other places, but she took control of the kitchens and settled into the bedroom at the top of the stairs, and her touch soon had doilies and flounced linens placed throughout the house on the richly upholstered furniture. Ace loved to watch her in the kitchen, and he soon began picking up Spanish from her, if only so he could understand the quiet songs she sang as she cooked. 

As they settled into the area, Uncle Ezra took to playing cards and shopping in Four Corners more than Eagle Bend. At Murphy’s in Four Corners, the saloon keeper would back him when he gave his word he wasn’t a cheat, and the rooms were cheaper. They had to go into Four Corners regardless, it boasted the closest grain exchange, and so they gradually stopped going in to Eagle Bend at all. Both towns were of approximately the same distance from the King and Knave, as they had named their ranch, and so it was just as easy to only go to Four Corners.

Abuelita accompanied them on their trips into town, although she frowned slightly upon Ace being allowed to sit up until all hours of the night watching Uncle Ezra play poker. Her complaints carried no real censure, as she easily saw that the boy idolized the gambler, and would resent hearing him denigrated. 

Occasionally Abuelita took Ezra aside in private and scolded him in long streaks of Spanish. Ezra pretended not to understand most of it, but he knew more than enough to know he was being taken to task as a less than ideal father figure. He couldn’t help but agree, but he also couldn't change, and gradually her scoldings took on the tone of a long standing joke. 

When the long winter had passed, Hearts and Diamonds had finished his growing, standing taller at the shoulder than Hazard, although not as deep chested. Satisfied at the young gelding’s conformation, Uncle Ezra began training the spirited pacer to carry a rider, having already halter trained him over the long winter. It was difficult work, the two year old headstrong and stubborn. But Uncle Ezra’s patience eventually won out over the young gelding. 

A few weeks before the passes were reported to usually clear, a letter was waiting for Uncle Ezra when they made their weekly trip into Four Corners. It was from the man in Georgia, a Mr. Tarleton, stating he would be glad to clear his gentleman’s debt with Uncle Ezra, and was gladder yet to do so in horseflesh, which he had in abundance, rather than cash, which he had very little of at hand. Tarleton wrote that he was sending along a proven six year old stallion who had sired two good crops of foals already, a pair of three year old jack mules, saddle and harness broken, and five mares, more than one of them in foal by Tarleton’s other stud. 

It was a much richer payout than Uncle Ezra expected, he said, but he trusted the gentleman who owed him the money. They would all be good stock. The difficulty would be in getting them from Georgia to their ranch. Mr. Tarleton would procure a livestock car and stockman to attend them, but Uncle Ezra would have to pick them up from the railhead. The nearest line was the New Mexico and Santa Fe, which didn’t actually stop in Santa Fe, but did in Albuquerque. 

It would be a long ride, but it would give them the stock they needed to really get their ranch under way. So, Abuelita packed for them, and they set out; Uncle Ezra aboard Hazard and Ace on Hearts and Diamonds, who he called Diamond, as the full name of the gelding was, in Ace’s opinion, far too long. Nearly a full month later, they rode back in, Uncle Ezra on the new stallion, who came to them with the noble sobriquet Shenandoah King. The mares were unnamed, Ace and his uncle unable to come to agreement on fitting monikers.

Abuelita greeted them from the front porch with a long, loud prayer of thanksgiving in Spanish, and when they had put all the horses away, she hugged each of them tightly, then fed them a big meal of chicken and rice. While they had been gone one of the blacksmith’s strapping sons from Four Corners had helped Abuelita around the place, and he ate with them too that night, telling them the news of town. 

The mares, Ace insisted, were to be called Hermione, Bianca, Juliet, Cordelia and Desdemona. With a slight grimace Uncle Ezra eventually permitted it, and soon came to be rather amused by their Shakespearean sobriquets. He did extract a promise from Ace however that not all their stock would be named in such a fashion. Ace agreed readily enough, figuring there were plenty of good names in the Iliad, Odyssey, Aeneid and Metamorphoses to keep them in business for some time. The mules had come with the names Duke and Earl, and these neither Ace nor his uncle felt like changing.

By the time the rains passed and summer came, the three mares who had been expecting dropped their foals, yielding a pair of colts and a filly. As they had not managed to get fenced off all the necessary pasturage before the ground froze in the fall, Uncle Ezra allowed the mares, their colts and Shenandoah King to run free until they finished putting up posts and stringing wire. It meant a significant savings on their grain as well as giving them a bit more time to get their fences up and the other necessities of running a farm taken care of. 

Rosie was put with that band too, and soon covered by King. With Uncle Ezra’s help Ace had also started teaching Diamond some of the tricks that Hazard knew. Rosie had learned a selection of those tricks as well, including the ability to open her stall door or slip free from a knotted lead. Despite all their tricks, they were well behaved horses, not too much given to escaping. 

When they went in for the weekly game and supply run to Four Corners, Ace befriended Billy Travis, the son of the couple who ran the newspaper, and the Potter children, whose parents operated the general store. Billy was younger than Ace, and Josh Potter older, but he liked them well enough. Nell Potter was less fun, in Ace's estimation, the same age as Billy Travis and a girl to boot. It was hard for Ace to make friends, for he had already seen so much more of the world than his age mates, and lived outside of town where they could not interact frequently.

The town of Four Corners changed that fall, not long after the priest was run out of the clapboard church. Within a month after that, Steven Travis was murdered, and from there Four Corners slid into lawlessness. Despite that, Ace and his Uncle Ezra continued to shop there, wanting to keep their business with the Potters, who they liked and respected. As lawlessness strengthened, Ezra bought his boy a Remington New Model Navy revolver, similar to his own hide-out, but firing a smaller calibre round and thus having less recoil. 

Feeling honor-bound to do his guardian proud, Ace soon taught himself to fire the full sized weapon with a high degree of accuracy, and to reload with speed. Expert at fashioning his own rounds, Ezra taught that skill to the boy as well. They would hold shooting contests sometimes when they were riding out to check their herd. 

The contests also served the purpose of ensuring their everyday mounts weren’t gun shy, a valuable thing out on the frontier. On one of their early trips into town while outfitting the ranch, Uncle Ezra had bought Ace a .22 rifle. The stated purpose was for shooting rabbits, ground squirrels and other varmints, but they both knew that Ezra expected Ace to learn to both hunt and defend himself, and he kept up his practice with the revolver and derringers as well.

By the time the days began to shorten and the temperatures began to cool, Ace’s gelding Diamond was fairly well trained if not highly polished, and deeply devoted to his master. Ace also developed, both as a marksman and as a boy, devoted to horses and fishing and finding treasures like arrowheads and interesting stones. 

As summer slowly turned toward fall once more, they hired men to harvest the hay and grain that had been put in by other hired hands in the spring, and resow the fields with winter wheat. Abuelita commandeered Ace to help her put up the fruits of the garden she had planted, stocking their well dug cellar with pickles, preserves, jams and jellies of all sorts. 

The dawn after the first hard frost, Ezra packed his and Ace’s warmest clothes, and as the sun straggled over the tall cedars, they rode out into the ranges. It took them a week or so to find their little band, but the foals were already half weaned, the stallion and mares fat and glossy. King was stroppy with them, not wanting to lose his freedom, but when they lassoed Hermione, who had obviously become the lead mare, King followed along back to the stables without too much protesting. 

On the way in, they brought down a few good sized deer to butcher, packing the field dressed carcasses on the mares. The big lower pastures had been fenced in over the summer, and Uncle Ezra loosed the herd into them. With Ace’s help they started the smokehouse fire, and hung the venison up in preparation for butchering. Uncle Ezra gelded the smaller and less attractive of the colts, leaving the other as a stallion colt to preserve a second bloodline on the male side. Then, they fitted all three foals for their first hackamores and began discussing names for them while they butchered the venison and put most into the smokehouse to cure up for winter. 

Over winter, they continued their weekly trips into Four Corners, with occasional if less frequent trips to Eagle Bend for things that the smaller town simply couldn’t provide. But as the cold settled in, sickness rattled in the lungs of their elderly housekeeper. The doctor from Eagle Bend came once around the first of the year, pronounced she hadn’t a chance at survival, and promptly went away again. With no other option available, Ezra turned to the healer in Four Corners, although he would have preferred someone with proper schooling. 

Each week, after the wagon had been loaded with supplies and Ezra had played his night of poker, they would go back out to the ranch, with Mr. Jackson riding alongside. Ace knew his guardian had been a bit wary of trusting a healer without any sort of certification, but Jackson's remedies did seem to ease Abuelita’s breathing, which smoothed away any hesitation on Ace and Ezra's parts. By February, it was obvious to all three that the Doctor in Eagle Bend had been right. Abuelita was dying, and while the healer’s potions helped with the pain and the other symptoms of her decline, they could not cure her.

To keep Ace from thinking too much on Abuelita's illness, Ezra kept himself and the boy busy with the further gentling of their herd and an occasional hunting trip up into the ranges. He also taught Ace to braid horsehair for long mecate reins and leather for bosals. All their horses were trained up with the hackamores, and Ezra used a simple eggbutt snaffle bit on his mount, never placing anything harsher in the mouth of trusty Hazard. 

Ace used a slightly stronger but still simple curb style bit on his own gelding, being a less experienced horseman, and needing a little more control. He hoped with time and more training, Diamond would wear a mouthpiece as plain Hazard’s. Both rode fairly plain plantation style saddles, light for their mounts comfort, but deep seated for long hours of riding and with sturdy horns for rope work.

With the first breath of spring came King’s foals from the mares he had covered, including a bright sorrel filly out of Rosie they called Queen of Roses. That spring they also mated King with the mares who had foaled the previous spring, their yearlings weaned and in halter training although they were still growing and not strong enough yet to be ridden. With the training on the yearlings and other horses, they were quite busy. But not too busy to continue to watch over Abuelita. Ace stopped going into Four Corners at all with his Uncle Ezra, having decided that one of them should be at the ranch at all times. 

In late March, before the snow had cleared from the passes, Abuelita passed in her sleep. She had been confined to her bed for a few months, Ace and Ezra left to fend for themselves with regards to cleaning and cooking. When the passes did clear, even though they had only just buried her in town, Ezra and Ace turned out most of the horses to high pasture and packed their things, then hired one of the blacksmith’s boys to watch over the place. 

Despite that Ace wanted to stay and mourn a bit, they had been planning for months a trip south to Albuquerque for the spring horse fair there. If they waited, they would miss the fair. By showing Shenandoah King at the fair, Uncle Ezra hoped to gain some business standing King to stud and training other horses, and he also wanted to see if they could find a few more quality mares. The six they had were very good, but bloodlines made money, and they didn’t want theirs to become stale. 

When they returned to the ranch with a string of three gaited mares behind their mounts, it was nearly summer in the dry low country. They brought the herd down from the high pastures so they wouldn’t run too wild, and Goneril, Regan and Rosemund - Ace sticking with Shakespeare despite his promise - were soon covered by King. Wanting to be more certain of their abilities as riding or driving horses should they not prove to be good breeders, they were also soon in training alongside the yearlings under Uncle Ezra’s deft touch. 

Ace loved that the best, sitting on the fence of the training pen and watching his guardian outsmart and outstay the horses, guiding them dexterously with both hackamore and bit at first, then slowly training the new mares to work with only the hackamore to ensure good manners and the yearlings to work with the simple curb.

Over the course of early summer in the higher country their ranch was set in, as the low desert bloomed profusely in the wake of the torrential rains, a number of men brought their mares to be covered by Shenandoah King, having liked his well bred looks and easy manners, his even pacing gaits and showy running walk at the fair. King did the duty enthusiastically, and it was nice having guests in the house. Of course it would have been easier with a housekeeper, but the men who brought their horses didn’t seem to mind being looked after by a bachelor and a boy. 

For Uncle Ezra, it only served to illustrate that even if they didn’t get another housekeeper soon, they would at least need a man to help out around the farm. They tried out a few men, but the first was a drunk and the second a thief, neither traits either Uncle Ezra or Ace much admired. Both were shortly dismissed, but the work really was too much for a man and a boy less than half grown. Uncle Ezra put an add in Widow Travis’ _Clarion_ , and they did the best they could in the meantime.


	3. King and Knave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mr. Tanner shows up, and Ezra (somewhat) improves his emulation of responsible adulthood.

“Ezra Standish?” The stranger asked.

“Depends who’s askin’,” Uncle Ezra said with a flash of his gold tooth, and the stranger grinned, pushing his gray-brown hat back from his scruffy face a bit. 

“Man at the bar says you’re lookin’ for a ranch hand,” the stranger clarified, and Uncle Ezra dipped his head slowly. 

“You drink?” Uncle Ezra asked, and the man nodded slowly. “To excess?” Uncle Ezra pressed, and the stranger smiled and shook his head. “Steal?” Uncle Ezra asked, and that got him a flash of blue eyed anger. Uncle Ezra merely chuckled. “Forgive my pressing,” he explained with a negligent wave of one well formed hand. “I’ve already had to let two men go, one for drinking when he was supposed to be working, and the other for stealing. It’s only me and my boy, an’ I simply cannot afford to pay a man who doesn’t do his work.” The stranger smiled softly. 

“I do my work,” the man said simply, and Uncle Ezra smiled slowly as he took the man’s measure. 

“I imagine you do,” Uncle Ezra said. “Well, I’m Ezra Standish, that’s my boy Ace. You got a name friend, or do I just call you Tex?”

“Tanner,” the stranger said with a little smile, and Uncle Ezra held out his hand. 

“Well Mr. Tanner, sounds like you’ve got a job. Pays half a dollar a day, with a room and meals in the house with Ace and I included. If you’ve got anything here in town you need to see to, me and the boy are staying over for a game or two. We’ll leave out to the King and Knave tomorrow, mid-morning. I catch you shirking, stealing, mistreating the animals or cursing in front of my boy, you’ll have to find yourself other employment.” 

Tanner nodded, eyeing the table. 

“You’re welcome to play a few hands with us. Penny ante for now, but the stakes will be higher once the sun sets,” Uncle Ezra said.

Tanner nodded again, settling in one of the chairs with splay legged nonchalance. When Ace came back after his early supper a while later, the stranger was gone, the table ringed by drummers and travelers with more money than sense. Most of the locals knew better by now than to play at poker with Uncle Ezra.

After breakfast the next morning, Uncle Ezra hitched up the mule team to their wagon. Duke and Earl were a matched pair of big gelding jacks with smooth strides and easy tempers, so gentle that Ace could drive them with ease despite that he wasn’t much used to handling drafters under harness. Their supplies were loaded into the buckboard, and as Ace led out their saddle horses, the stranger appeared on a rawboned black with a wide streak of white down his face. The black danced on his hooves, tossing his rough head.

“Good morning Mr. Tanner,” Uncle Ezra greeted the man, touching the brim of his neat black hat. Tanner grinned and touched his own hat in return, but didn’t speak. Ace talked eagerly as they rode, Uncle Ezra driving the wagon. Ace described how Uncle Ezra had won their stock, how they had gone down to claim the jacks and stallion and mares, how they had gone to Albuquerque again earlier this year and bought the three new mares, how men had come from all over to have King cover their mares. Occasionally the newly hired man nodded or made some sound to indicate he was listening, but Tanner obviously wasn’t much for talking himself.

Despite that the new hired man didn’t say much, Ace liked Tanner. There was an easiness about him, his silence not intimidating in the least. Tanner didn’t exactly invite conversation, but he didn’t scare it off either. And when he did talk, he could be coaxed to tell tales of time he had spent living among the Comanche before the war. By the time Mr. Tanner had been with them a week, Ace was rather fond of him.

Eager to brag on the quiet Texan with the deft hands, Ace looked forward to their next trip into town. Josh would be incredibly jealous that their hired hand knew everything there was to know about Indians. But the afternoon before they were to go into Four Corners next, Uncle Ezra found Desdemona, a pretty grey broodmare, looking back at her flanks repeatedly and nipping at her stomach when he checked her box. Her bedding was disturbed, and quickly Uncle Ezra called for their man.

“Mr. Tanner, could you take the mules into town and pick up the supplies yourself tomorrow? I shall give you the list for Mr. Potter, but I don’t want to leave Desdemona. Ace, I shall need your help, if you don’t mind staying back with me.” Ace shook his head, rubbing at Desdemona’s nose gently, trying to keep her from getting agitated. It was a reversal of their plan, but like all the mares, Desdemona was as much friend as good breeding stock, and Ace knew his uncle wouldn’t leave her if she was ill.

“I’ll be fine boss,” Mr. Tanner said, then finished bringing in the other horses from the pasture. In the morning, Mr. Tanner hitched Duke and Earl to the buckboard with Ace’s help, and then Ace was back into the barn to help Uncle Ezra, who hadn’t left the mare’s side all night. Uncle Ezra had already taken away the buckets of oats and water and gotten the paraffin oil to dose her with in case it was a blockage. When she needed distraction, Uncle Ezra led her out to the corral and walked her. She occasionally pulled away and rolled on the ground, her long legs waving in the air as she tried to relieve her distress. It was a delicate balance, walking her enough to ease her, but not over tiring her. 

In addition, there were the regular chores of the farm to be seen to, the mucking of stalls and placing of new bedding. The checking of the hay as it was placed to ensure it was clean and wholesome. They traded off in these and the other chores, Ace gathering the eggs from their little flock of hens, while Ezra walked Desdemona, Uncle Ezra milking the fussy little nanny goat Abuelita had insisted upon while Ace stayed with the mare. When he heard Ace cry out sharply as he was mucking the stalls, Ezra dropped the fork and ran. Desdemona was rolling again, and Ace was leaning against the fence of the corral, holding his arm carefully to his chest.

“She didn’t mean to,” Ace said piteously, his face and voice tight with pain. Uncle Ezra brushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him, then took his arm as gently as possible. Half way between the elbow and the hand, Ace’s arm was bent at an unnatural angle, Desdemona having broken it against the fence in her desire to free herself and roll. Ace saw the fear in his uncle’s eyes, and he didn’t know how to fix it. 

“We need Mr. Jackson,” Uncle Ezra said grimly. “If - I hate to do it, but if I rode for town, will you be alright? I’ll take your Diamond, he’s the fastest goer of the lot.” Ace nodded, knowing it was necessary. A break wasn't anything to mess with, and there was no question his arm was broken. 

It would take less time if Ace could go in to town, but he wasn’t sure he could make the ride one handed, and besides, one of them had to stay with the ranch, especially since Desdemona was down. Uncle Ezra kissed his forehead again, then went to the small paddock where the geldings grazed and whistled for Diamond. In a flash of hooves they were gone, Diamond’s rangy form thundering toward town, Uncle Ezra up bareback and with only the bosal and mecate as guides.

In far less time than a trip to town and back should have taken, the sound of hoofbeats approached. Ace had already succumbed to the pain of his broken wrist, and taken himself upstairs to his room to lay down with a mug of warm milk, cold coffee and a measure of Bourbon. Desdemona was pacing the hard packed training ring, and the quickness of Uncle Ezra’s familiar footfalls on the stairs made Ace smile wanly.

“Ace?!” Uncle Ezra called, and Ace cleared his dry throat.

“In my room Uncle Ez,” Ace called back. “Sorry,” he murmured when his uncle came in, only to be gently hushed. 

“I know it hurts my dear,” Uncle Ezra said softly, smoothing his sweat damped hair back from his face. “But Mr. Jackson is here now, and he shall soon have you right as rain.” Ace nodded, eyes sliding past his guardian to Mr. Jackson. The healer wasn't terribly good with children and had no bedside manner to speak of, so they just nodded to one another and Mr. Jackson pushed into the room and got to work. Ace didn’t much like being treated like a child, he figured he had stopped being a child when he had been pulled from that burning house and dragged away screaming for his Ma, so the fact that Mr. Jackson was brusque and straightforward didn't bother Ace too much. He'd get more than enough coddling from Uncle Ezra.

When Ace's arm had been straightened and splinted, and he had been dosed with a mugful of bitter herbal tisane, Uncle Ezra again kissed Ace’s feverish forehead, then exited his room and softly closed the door. Ace could hear the low voices of his uncle and Mr. Jackson downstairs, and a few unfamiliar voices as well. He thought maybe he heard Mr. Tanner’s Texan rasp, but it was too low for him to be certain, and the medicine made him dozy. He woke when his uncle came up with a bowl of rabbit stew and settled on the side of his bed. 

“Mr. Tanner means to go help drive off some bandits that are terrorizing the Seminole village in the lowcountry,” Uncle Ezra said after a while. “Mr. Jackson is going with him.” Uncle Ezra fed him another mouthful of stew, clearly lost in thought.

“You could go too if you wanted,” Ace offered softly. “I know you like speaking with the old shaman, when you go to see if they have horses to trade.” Ezra smiled gently, stroking his cheek.

“I can’t leave you my dear,” Ezra said. “What if the odds are too great against us? What good are six men against twenty or more? The Seminole have been good to us, yes, and I know you are friends with some of the boys there. But you cannot manage everything one handed, and if I were to fall - what then?”

“I could come with you,” Ace proposed next. “I’m a good shot Uncle Ezra, better than some grown men, with either hand, and I can ride. And since I’m still small, I’m real good for an ambush. Please Uncle Ezra? Besides, I like Mr. Tanner too, and we have to make sure he comes through it alright.” Uncle Ezra chuckled softly at that. 

“Let me think on it,” the gambler-cum-rancher finally said. “I can give my word only that far.” Ace grinned at that, and leaned up to hug his uncle tightly. 

“They all stayin’ for supper?” Ace asked when he lay back, letting Uncle Ezra settle the tray on his lap.

“No,” Uncle Ezra said. “I offered my hospitality, but it seems they would prefer to spend the night at the saloon. I cannot much say I blame them. It shall be just you and me tonight.” Ace smiled. He had a feeling his uncle was nervous about this, not wanting Mr. Tanner to go, but not feeling he was in his rights to stop him either.

“At least if Mr. Tanner gets hurt, he has a place he can come home to,” Ace said perceptively, and Uncle Ezra looked at him in surprise, then smiled and leaned over to kiss his forehead. Although Uncle Ezra had become more demonstrative the longer they knew one another, Ace knew that Mr. Tanner wasn’t the only one his guardian was worried over. “I’ll be alright too,” Ace promised maturely.

“I know you will dear boy,” Uncle Ezra said softly. “But I must admit, I was rather terrified when I heard you cry out earlier,” he said, and Ace could see it in the blankness of Uncle Ezra’s eyes, the pain that the man had felt. He reached out, resting his good hand on his uncle’s thigh, and the gambler smiled wanly, then looked back at Ace. “No matter what I decide in the morning Ace, I want you to know I love you dearly. And if I do go, I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you.”

“But you won’t let me come with you,” Ace said softly, hanging his head dejectedly.

“No Ace, I won’t,” Uncle Ezra said firmly, then chucked him under the chin to get him to look up. Their eyes met, and Ace swallowed, because he hadn’t seen such a serious expression on his chosen uncle’s face in some time. 

“Ace, you’re the most important thing in my world right now, and no matter how grown up you think yourself, you’re still just a boy. And a gunfight is no place for a boy. If we both went, I would be a liability. I’d be more concentrated on ensuring you were safe and whole than seeing to whatever other responsibilities I had undertaken. Do you understand that? That I need to know that you are safe?” Ace nodded slowly, not really understanding, but getting a little of it. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat.

“I love you too Uncle Ezra,” Ace choked out, and then he was half upsetting the tray as he leaned in to embrace his uncle tightly. “Please, come home,” he said softly, certain that his guardian would make the decision to ride out with the other hired guns and protect the Seminole village. 

Ezra sighed and hugged the boy tightly, letting his eyes fall closed in resignation. He had saved the boy, and now it seemed he had developed the aura of protector. So he would go, and he would try with everything in the world to make it home to his boy. He squeezed Ace even closer, steeling his resolve.

“You really want me to go help them?” Uncle Ezra asked softly, and Ace turned big, trusting eyes to meet his questioning jades. Seeing a firmness there he knew well, Uncle Ezra smiled softly, wiping at tears that hadn’t yet fallen. “Very well. I shall see to the morning chores and ride out early. Desdemona seems some better, but she bears close watching yet. I - I will let Mrs. Travis and the Potters know you are out here. Ace,” he started, and the boy nodded, knowing what he’d say next. Be careful. Watch your back. Don’t take any risks out there. Only a sure gamble is worth taking.

“I’ll be alright by myself a couple days,” Ace promised. “The goat probably won’t much like me milking her with one hand, but I can manage Uncle Ezra. And - and if it goes a sevenday without you coming home, I - I’ll go into town.” His reward was a loosening of Uncle Ezra’s tight face. The worry was still there, a sharp line of it settled between Uncle Ezra’s drawn down brows, his lips held in a thin press rather than the habitual half smile. “I’ll be alright,” Ace promised again.

When he woke at cock’s crow in the morning, Ace could smell the smoke of a fresh laid fire, rich with aromatic mesquite from the lowcountry. The smell of coffee was laid over it, and for a moment Ace laid there, listening to the ranch coming to life around him. Hazard gave one of his braying snorts from someplace closer than the stables or corral, and Ace leaped from the bed. His wrist was well wrapped, and although it hurt like blazes, he wasn’t going to let his uncle ride away without someone to watch him go. 

He dressed quickly and neatly as possible with one hand, ran a wet comb through his hair after he washed his face, then clattered down the wide stairs. A batch of warm biscuits was laid out on the table, and Ace patted the old cur that had followed them home the winter before, then shoved a biscuit into his mouth. He helped himself to a mug of coffee, liberally lightened with that morning’s milk. A slip of paper lay on the table, and Ace awkwardly folded it up one handed to be read later. For now, he wanted to see his uncle. 

There was a tramping of boots on the porch, then more careful steps into the house. Ace slipped towards the front hall, reaching down left handed toward his six shooter, just in case it was foe rather than friend. He recognized his uncle’s profile, and smiled broadly, hurrying his steps. The hat lifted and tilted, shoulders tensing then releasing, and he heard Uncle Ezra sigh.

“Hadn’t realized you were up already Ace,” Uncle Ezra said gently and a lucifer flared in the semi darkness. The lamp glowed softly, the wick turned down low. Yellow light danced up across Uncle Ezra’s face, casting dark purpley shadows in the hollows of his eyes and cheeks. “Love you Ace,” Uncle Ezra said gruffly, then wrapped one strong arm around his shoulders and yanked him close. “Seven days,” the gambler murmured softly into his hair. “Watch yourself Ace.”

“Likewise,” Ace said with a tremulous smile, and then Uncle Ezra was hitching up his saddlebags over his shoulder, grabbing his repeating rifle, and striding out the door. He mounted quickly, then touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. Ace returned the salute, and Hazard pirouetted in place, then leaped into a gallop, and Uncle Ezra was gone. The next six days were the longest of Ace’s life. A couple days in, Sam, the blacksmith’s sturdy teenaged son, drove out with the livery buckboard and unloaded their weeks worth of supplies, nearly forgotten in all the excitement. 

Ace had been sticking close to the house, having turned all the horses save Diamond and Desdemona out into the high pasture that first morning. The two of them, he kept close at hand, but between the laxative and the walking, Desdemona’s colic passed the afternoon Uncle Ezra left. Still, he waited a few more days to be certain, then saddled Diamond up and rode into the pasture with the mare ponied behind.

There was a livery hack harnessed to the hire buggy from town when Ace returned from his errand in the high pastures, and he slowed his mount considerably. It was someone who had come from town, but who? He swallowed thickly. Something had happened to Uncle Ezra. His stomach dropped out, and he nearly dismounted then and there, despite that he was still some distance from the house. 

Realizing he was acting babyish, not like a young man with a ranch to run, Ace gently urged Diamond into a four beat slow gait, then a ground covering three beat lope. Ace pulled up at the porch, dismounting swiftly and striding in without bothering to beat the dust from his clothes or wipe it from his boots. His hand on the butt of his six shooter, Ace strode into the house, stopping short when he found Mrs. Travis sitting tensely in the parlor. 

“Ma’am?” Ace asked softly, dropping his hand from his hip and taking off his hat. “Mrs. Travis, is - is Uncle Ezra?” Her face softened dramatically as she realized what he must be thinking. 

“Your Uncle Ezra is fine,” Mrs. Travis said quickly, standing and crossing to Ace, placing her hands on his narrow shoulders and squeezing reassuringly. “He’s fine Ace, I didn’t mean to worry you. I won’t lie, he was hurt a bit in the fight at the Seminole village, but according to the others, his assistance was integral to the favorable outcome. He - he’s been arrested Ace. My - my father in law, Judge Travis, has been assigned to this circuit. He recognized Mr. Standish from a standing warrant issued a number of years ago, when Mr. Standish jumped bail in Fort Laramie.” Ace blanched, sitting heavily.

“Forgive me Mrs. Travis,” Ace said distractedly, his little hands shaking. “I just - I won’t believe he’s alright until I see him with my own eyes.” He unconsciously touched the vest pocket where the now well worn letter rested. The contents were memorized, all the declarations of love and admonitions of caution. The blonde widow smiled softly, kneeling and patting the too old little boy on the knee. She might not think much of Mr. Standish, but it had been clear from the start how devoted he was to his nephew, and his nephew to him.

“It’s quite alright Ace,” Mary said kindly, then bit her lip, glancing away guiltily. “I - he asked me to tell you that he wishes you to stay here until he is either able to effect his release or sends word for you to ride into town. Everything is still so unsettled, and - I believe he is afraid for you, with all the other gunmen around, and the lawlessness.”

“Uncle Ezra isn’t afraid of anything,” Ace defended hotly, brushing away her comforting hand and jumping to his feet. “He’s the bravest man there is!” Mary smiled tightly. She might not agree, but she also knew better than to argue with a child over his choice of heroes. After all, if Ace had been given to Ezra Standish, there must not have been anyone else to care for him. 

She fought a shiver, remembering her first sight of the pair as they rode down the main street, the dapper professional gambler and his miniature and equally dapper shadow on their showy, high stepping mounts. No child should have that tumbleweed life, and she had commended Mr. Standish when he first settled down at the old Svenssen place. But when it became clear that despite dropping the “itinerant” from his description, he would not drop “gambler,” Mary had snubbed him, despite that he was invariably polite to her, Billy and Stephen, being especially solicitous after Stephen’s murder.

“I’m sure he is very brave,” Mary said in placating tones, her eyes still distant. “Forgive me. But I know he does worry about you. I believe Sam delivered your groceries last week?” Ace nodded, accepting the change in subject. It was probably common knowledge, the town was small enough that most people knew a fair bit of one another's business. “Mr. Potter was killed today,” Mrs Travis said softly. “But Mrs. Potter will fill your order as usual.” Ace nodded, swallowing thickly. 

“Would - would you take a message to the Potters for me, and a letter for Uncle Ezra?” Ace asked softly, his mind racing. It sounded like things were falling apart at the seams in Four Corners. More than anything he wanted to stay, he loved the ranch and living with Uncle Ezra. But if things were this bad, if Uncle Ezra was in jail, what would happen to him? Ace had known being alone this past week would be hard, but he hadn’t realized just how hard, and just how impossible it was for a single nine year old boy to run a ranch on his own.

“Of course,” Mrs. Travis said gently, her eyes softening once more as she was again reminded that despite his brave front, this little boy really was only a few years older than her Billy. “Go on and see to your horse, then take your time with the messages. If it isn’t an imposition, I would go to the kitchen, see if I can’t help you a bit?” 

Ace debated a moment, then nodded, and led the way to the kitchen before going to see to Diamond. When the gelding was groomed and turned into the near pen, Ace took Uncle Ezra’s heavy writing set and a few sheets of paper from the desk and brought them into the kitchen, wanting company after being alone the last few days.

Carefully Ace wrote out a letter of condolences to Mrs. Potter, including his regrets to his friend Josh and Josh’s little sister Nell. When he was satisfied, he sprinkled sand carefully over the wet ink, then set the first sheet aside. Taking a deep breath and a moment to gather his thoughts, Ace dipped the pen again, then set the nib to the paper and began to write. There wasn’t much to say. After all, what could he tell his Uncle, when he knew so very little? Desdemona was okay, there was that. All the stock was okay. And he would stay at the ranch until sent for, safe out of harm’s way.

Mr. Tanner arrived with the mules and buckboard the next afternoon, while Ace was mucking the stables. It took unbearably long since he hadn’t much strength to start with and was working one handed. Rather to his surprise though, Mr. Jackson was riding along, and there was a big man in back with the supplies. The third man was somewhat familiar, although Ace wasn’t sure he could place him. Ace had become a great deal less wary since they settled here on the ranch, accepting with all the good hearted innocence of a child that here they would stay, and that no one would take him from Uncle Ezra save his now almost mythical father.

“Hey lil’ boss,” Mr. Tanner called with a smile when Ace appeared in the open barn doors. “Nate wants ta take a look at that paw a’ your’n. Reckon you’re up ta it?” Ace swallowed thickly. 

“Soon as I finish with the stables,” Ace said diligently. He had left most of the stock up in the pastures since Uncle Ezra’s departure, and he wanted to bring them back in, take a look at them and see if their lessons had stuck. 

“I can do that son,” the third man said, his voice a low rumble that instantly put Ace on edge. 

“This here’s Josiah Sanchez,” Mr. Tanner said. “He rode with me an’ your uncle at the Seminole village. Figured he could help out around here while Nate checks you over. I’ll show him about.” Slowly Ace nodded. All he had to go on was Mr. Tanner’s word, but the hired man had been true since Ace had met him. And having them help would surely speed things along. 

“All the stock save Diamond and those mules are in the high pastures,” Ace said, easing his hidden hand behind his back and tucking away the pocket pistol he had been holding ready by his side in the shadows. “I was going to bring them in for the night and run them through their paces in the morning.”

“Well, I guess we can help you with that lil’ boss,” Mr. Tanner said kindly, then untied his mount from the back of the wagon and led him to the trough. “Didn’t think none on doing that type of errand, you mind if Josiah mounts up on Diamond? His Megiddo is back in town.” Ace looked over the big man appraisingly. Diamond wasn’t a small horse, but he wasn’t large either. The Arab influence was pronounced in him, giving a deeply dished face and delicate features, a high flung tail and sure, flinty feet. But Ace remembered well that the great George Washington had ridden a little Arab stallion, and he was surely larger than this man.

“I suppose so,” Ace said, then flashed a mischievous smile Mr. Tanner knew well from his real employer. “If he can catch him.” Mr. Tanner chortled. Diamond wasn’t bad tempered, but he wasn’t exactly friendly either, trained to only trust his master and his master’s uncle. Ace knew that Uncle Ezra’s mount was the same way, uncertain of anyone save his two green eyed boys.

“Guess that’s fair,” Mr. Tanner said, shooting a look at Josiah, wondering. “Go on an’ let Nate look at you. He’ll be worse if’n ya make ‘m wait.” Ace tipped the brim of his cap with two fingers, the familiar salute not lost on the men who had ridden with his uncle. Then he slipped past them and went to where Mr. Jackson had unloaded the weeks groceries from the buckboard. Figuring that Mr. Tanner would see to the mules and wagon as well, Ace nodded in passing, then walked by the healer and continued on up to his room. 

He sat silently as Mr. Jackson fussed over him, unwinding the wrapping of the splint and checking the arm for heat or swelling that might indicate infection. Finally the healer told him he was free to go, and gladly Ace slipped from his room and clattered downstairs, beginning to haul in and put away the groceries. As he did, Ace took stock of what they had on hand. There were still a few of the biscuits Mrs. Travis had cooked the afternoon before, and the goat had given good milk today. He could probably manage a decent supper for four if he stretched the meat with plenty of rice and beans.

“Will y’all be stayin’ ta supper Mr. Jackson?” Ace asked as the healer came down the stairs. “Wouldn’t be no trouble, an’ I’m an alright cook.” Mr. Jackson glanced about as if expecting someone else to answer, then scrunched up his face as if it were a difficult decision. 

“Ace?!” Mr. Tanner called from outside before the healer could answer, and Ace waited a moment, then stuck his head out the back door, looking for the Texan. “Could you corral that damn horse for Josiah? Otherwise we won’t get the stock back in tonight.” Ace sighed, weighing his options. If he cooperated, the job would be done. But it was his job. His responsibility, Uncle Ezra had said so. His face settled into a stubborn expression.

“I’ll ride out,” Ace decided, his young voice clear and strong. “Mr. Sanchez can remain here and help Mr. Jackson determine if y’all will be stayin’ on for supper.” Mr. Tanner shrugged, waiting atop Damnation as the boy sauntered out of the house. He passed through the barn to grab his saddle and bridle, then simply stood at the corral fence and let out a high, singing whistle. There was an eager whinny of answer, and Diamond trotted over easy as you please. 

Mr. Tanner shook his head with a soft snort, watching as the boy pet the gelding, then tacked him up, his motions deft even one handed. Within a few minutes, they were ready to go, Diamond dipping his delicately built head over the gate to open the latch and let them out, then backing against the gate to close it. Vin shook his head. Damn horse was too smart for its own good, and the boy too. Hell, the horse breeding gambler was no slouch when it came to brains either, used words in everyday conversation that Tanner hadn’t even known existed.

“Just as well,” Ace said, reins resting easily in his good hand. “I’ve got an idea where they’ll be.” He turned back to the house, saw Mr. Jackson standing at the doorway with a disapproving look on his face, arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll be back in a couple hours,” Ace said evenly. “If y’all 're still here, you’re welcome to break bread with me.” He reined Diamond around sharply and applied gentle pressure. 

Alive to his master’s desire for speed, the coppery-brown gelding broke straight into a gallop for a couple paces, then slowed to a smooth canter to allow Tanner to catch up on Damnation. It wasn’t until he sighted the stock in the dell near one of the deeper watering holes that Ace wondered why neither Mr. Jackson nor Mr. Sanchez had brought their mounts. Either they intended to stay for a while, or they had assumed that mounts would be provided for them. Both options put Ace’s back up on grounds of sheer presumptuousness. 

It would have been one thing if they had ridden in like that with Uncle Ezra, but who was Mr. Tanner to offer the hospitality of the place? Hell, he still hadn’t told them his given name. Ace frowned, then sighed. There was nothing to be done about it at this point. _There’s no use paying bills with prizes unwon_ , he reminded himself in his uncle’s genteel tones. All he could do now was be the gentleman his uncle treated him as, and expected him to treat others as.

Rising in his stirrups, Ace let out a different whistle than the one that had called Diamond, this one singing on a different set of notes. Tanner watched the boy appreciatively, knowing that without serious and consistent practice, either of those whistles would be meaningless. And neither would be easy to copy. It was a smart little bit of insurance. A rumble of hooves, and the lead mare was trotting the herd over, Shenandoah King cavorting at the rear. Ace guided Diamond into the herd, leaning down to stretch out a hand and pat Rosie’s nose. He palmed a peppermint to Hermione, and in the same movement looped a bosal with lead already attached around her nose.

“Alright then,” Ace said, shooting a glance over at Mr. Tanner. The Texan had returned to his usual easy quietude. It was nice, but also infuriating in a way. Ace was dying for news of the fight, of how Uncle Ezra had been hurt, of how bad he was hurt. But Mr. Tanner didn’t seem inclined to talk, and Mr. Jackson had been equally unhelpful earlier. Ace didn’t dare hope that he’d have better luck with Mr. Sanchez. All he wanted though was to curl against Uncle Ezra and be sure he was alright, have that familiar slow southern drawl read to him from the travels of Odysseus or Aeneas, or even Livy’s Histories.

With a sigh Ace helped put away the stock, seeing to their food and water by rote, then rubbing down Diamond, crooning softly to him as he combed his gleaming flaxen hair. Going into the house through the back door, Ace wasn’t too surprised to hear the low rumble of voices in the parlor. If Mr. Tanner hadn’t been directly behind him, he would have gone to the door to listen, hear what Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Jackson were talking about. Instead, he began readying the other ingredients, then went back to the yard and caught a few pullets. 

Beans and rice would be fine for just him, but he had the reputation of the house to think of, and he was fairly confident he could make chicken and dumplings almost as good as Uncle Ezra could. He killed, bled, plucked and cleaned the birds less deftly than usual because of his injury, but the tools of this butchery were as familiar to him now as his guns. He dredged the pieces and set them to frying in the big kettle, then readied the dumpling batter. As he poured a jar of stock into the bottom of the kettle, he caught the sound of footsteps and an appreciative sigh, and chancing a glance over his shoulder, found all three men staring at the stove longingly. 

“If y'all ’re dyin’ of hunger, Mrs. Travis left some biscuits when she visited yesterday,” Ace said, negligently indicating the ornately carved bread keeper Uncle Ezra had bought second hand and painstakingly rubbed clean, then polished to a shine with oil and wax. “Supper will be ready soon enough, if you’d wash up.”

“An’ he means clean,” Mr. Tanner said with an amused grimace, remembering the scathing looks he had gotten from both boss and boy when he had first sat down to table with them, his face still slightly smudged with dirt, his jacket heavy with dust. Ace simply raised an eyebrow, an expression they had all seen already on his uncle’s face, and they went, leaving him to sigh over the dumplings, then get out the pewter pitcher and tap one of the little kegs of ale. It was a weak brew, and so he tapped himself a glass as well, to drink as he cooked, then went to the dining room and laid out places for four at the big oaken table. 

By the time Ace plated the chicken and dumplings into the tureen, the men had returned and were standing like a line of boys expecting a scolding at the threshold between dining room and entry way. Ace fought the urges to sigh, roll his eyes, and card his hand through his hair all at once. All of these expressions of exasperation and disgust he had picked up from his guardian, who used them only rarely and in private. 

Although he had more than once heard his uncle admonish himself _appearances are everything Ezra_ , the same warning had never been passed on to Ace. He knew a variation of it all the same, and it had always seemed to him to illustrate the very apt parallel between Miss Ella and Miss Maude. For the moment, he pushed away thoughts of his former guardian and his current guardian’s as yet unmet mother. He was hungry, and wanted his supper.


	4. Wild Cards, Aces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are reunions.

“Please gentlemen,” Ace said evenly, gesturing at the table with its fresh white cloth and delicate china plates, gleaming flatware and sparkling crystal. “Dinner is ready. I hope you will not be offended if I serve?” 

They sat quickly, eyes all fixed on the steaming tureen of chicken and dumplings. No one moved to stop him, and so Ace carefully hefted the pitcher and poured them each a serving of beer. Setting the heavy pitcher down on a pretty tile Abuelita had brought with her from Mexico, he remained standing between table and sideboard, holding out his hand for a plate. There was an awkward moment as the three men each looked at the other, and then Mr. Tanner shoved his plate into Ace’s hands. Knowing already that Mr. Tanner preferred the darker meat, Ace served him a pair of legs and a few dumplings. Mr. Sanchez handed his plate over next.

“Do you prefer the lean or fatty meat sir?” Ace asked, eyebrow raising in question, and the big man grinned. 

“Some of each, if possible son,” Sanchez said, and so Ace gave him a breast and a thigh, and the same number of dumplings as he had accorded Vin.

“And for you Mr. Jackson?” Ace asked, holding out his hand. 

“Lean meat,” Mr. Jackson said, and Ace nodded. Everyone else taken care of, Ace served himself a leg and a few dumplings, then sat. Mr. Jackson seemed poised to dig right in, until Mr. Tanner stopped him, glancing at the boy seated in his usual place at the right hand of the head of the table.

“Grace,” Mr. Tanner said softly, and Mr.Jackson’s eyes raised in surprise. Ace supposed he could understand, since he and Uncle Ezra never attended services at the church in town when it still had a preacher. He made the sign of the cross, and recited in a clear voice:

“We give Thee thanks for all Thy benefits, O Almighty God, who livest and reignest world without end. Amen.” 

“Amen,” rumbled Mr. Sanchez enthusiastically from across the table, nearly drowning out the softly murmured avowal from Mr. Tanner. They tucked in heartily, Mr. Tanner plowing through his pair of legs quickly and then going to the sideboard and helping himself to a thigh and a couple more dumplings, as Ace had expected he would. When they were all sighing and leaning back in their chairs, the men draining their second glasses of beer, Ace quietly pushed back and reached for the tureen.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you dessert,” Ace said politely, gathering the big dish up and glancing inside, noting there was enough left to serve as his lunch the following day. “However, if you would precede me to the parlor, you may make yourselves free of the Bourbon.”

“I’ll help ya clean up lil’ boss,” Mr. Tanner offered, reaching across the table to gather Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Jackson’s plates. “Figure I kin wash ‘m up right quick while you set things ta rights, and we’ll let ‘m dry in the rack o’ernight.” Ace nodded, glad of the offer. He had resentfully half wondered if the Texan had forgotten exactly who he worked for, even though he knew that wasn't a particularly charitable thought. They cleaned up with practiced efficiency, and Ace was soon back in the parlor. He chewed his lip thoughtfully, then cleared his throat.

“You gentlemen are of course welcome to stay the night if you wish,” Ace said, then produced a deck of cards from the pocket of his vest and settled into his favorite chair near the parlor stove. “There are beds aplenty. Now, would you fancy a game of chance to pass the time?” Ace offered, and Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Jackson looked at him incredulously. “Just a friendly game of penny ante, of course,” he said genteelly, not wanting to embarrass them if they were low on funds.

“Five card stud?” Mr. Tanner asked, more used to the habits of the house, and Ace smiled slightly, nodding and moving cards idly and deftly between his hands, then disappearing them into his waistcoat pocket.

“Mr. Jackson, Mr. Sanchez?” Ace asked, standing and going to where the card table was folded against the wall. 

“Might as well deal me in,” Sanchez said with a grin. “Maybe I play with you enough, I’ll figure how to get some of my money back from your uncle.” Ace held in a quiet scoff. He was well aware that most times anyone beat his uncle, it was either pure luck or Uncle Ezra was playing to lose. Ace was confident that his guardian was a certifiable genius at poker and calculating odds. If he didn’t have the hand to win, he folded. Or, Ace thought, he bluffed so well he could sell sand in the desert. 

A scheming little smirk flitted over Ace’s features for a split second as he deftly set up the table, then unfolded the pair of chairs to face the armchairs. It didn’t last long enough to be seen by his opponents, and within half an hour, Ace was fleecing his elders with the same skill and panache his uncle exhibited.

“Well, that nixes that plan,” Mr. Sanchez said with good spirits, finishing off his tumbler of Bourbon and folding his hand. “I think I’ll bow out before I lose the shirt off my back. It’s been a pleasure.” Ace deftly urged the hand to a close. 

“Let me show you to a room Mr. Sanchez. Mr. Tanner, I presume you will be staying in your usual quarters?”

“Course lil’ boss. Reckon it’s about my bed time too. Gotta be up ta milk that nanny goat in the mornin’.” Ace smiled brightly, glad for this return to the routine established before the day he broke his arm. Mr. Tanner would take care of the goat, Ace the chickens, and together, since Uncle Ezra wasn’t here, they would look after the horses. 

“Of course. Mr. Jackson, if it’s no imposition, I could show you to a room as well? I’m afraid the rooms other than Mr. Tanner’s may be rather dusty, they’ve been closed up for some time, and I was not expecting visitors.” 

It was a rude little reprimand, but Ace couldn’t quite help himself. He was worried over Uncle Ezra, and although he would never admit it to anyone but himself, he had realized just how much he enjoyed being a boy after all, rather than a little grown up. Uncle Ezra had given him that opportunity while still allowing him to retain his dignity, and he had not realized just how precious that was until suddenly he had to be an adult.

Mr. Jackson simply nodded, and Ace disappeared his cards and set away the card table and chairs, then led the way to the second floor of the house. Mr. Tanner had taken Abuelita’s old room at the top of the stairs when he moved in, guessing correctly that he would often be the first one up in the mornings. Ace and Ezra shared the master suite with its pair of bed rooms flanking a sunny morning room at the front of the house, leaving the other rooms uninhabited. 

Slowly they had been furnishing them, mostly with pieces sold off cheap by homesteaders needing to drop weight from their wagons. There were still a few things missing, one of the rooms was lacking a rug for the bare wooden floor, another had a mismatched ewer and basin that Uncle Ezra despised. But the rooms flanking Mr. Tanner’s were well put together, and Ace knew that they had put fresh ticks and new linens on not three months before when they did the spring cleaning.

Politely Ace showed the guests their rooms, then unlocked the master suite and showed himself in, closing and locking the door behind him. Inside, he leaned against the door, trying to ignore the quiet voices of the men in the corridor. He knew without a doubt they were discussing him and his uncle, and while he wished he could say he didn’t care a whit, he did. He cared a great deal, because he liked Mr. Tanner, and knew Mr. Jackson, but Mr. Sanchez was an unknown factor, and he could make trouble for them, could force them to sell the ranch and move if he could influence the town against them.

For the next few days, Ace worried constantly. Mr. Tanner spent the nights and mornings on the ranch, then went into town to socialize until supper. He occasionally brought word of Uncle Ezra, but not consistently, and Ace was leery of asking, not wanting to seem childish or overly dependent on his guardian. When Ace rode in with the stock one afternoon, and saw Hazard in the corral, he urged Diamond into an earth shaking gallop, leaning low over his mount’s neck and urging him on. The gelding gladly obliged, racing down into the stable yard.

“Uncle Ezra!” Ace cried, dismounting at a run, and there Uncle Ezra was, striding out of the back door in his shirtsleeves. One arm was strapped up to his chest, but when Ace thudded against the gambler’s torso, Ezra pulled the boy close regardless, clutching him tightly with his good arm. Ace wound his own arms as tight around his uncle’s trim waist as he could, nearly sobbing with relief as he inhaled that clean, familiar scent. 

“I’m here my dear,” Uncle Ezra said gruffly. “I’m here.” Ace shuddered a few times more, slowly quieting and pulling away enough to grin wetly up at his uncle. 

“I missed you so much Uncle Ezra,” Ace hiccoughed. “I - please don’t leave me again?”

“No Ace, never,” Uncle Ezra promised with quiet intensity. “Never again. I - I have given my word to Judge Travis that I will serve out thirty days as a regulator in town in lieu of a jail sentence, but after that, it’s just you, me, and the horses. Deal?”

“Deal.” Ace said gamely, stepping away enough to thrust his good hand between them even if it was his left. Uncle Ezra smiled broadly and shook regardless, then pulled him back in for another hug. 

“So Mr. Tanner tells me you’ve been managing well in my absence,” Uncle Ezra said leadingly, guiding him with an arm around his shoulders towards where Diamond blew heatedly. Obligingly Ace related the events of the past weeks, allowing himself a minor tangent on how patronising certain adults were. Uncle Ezra shot him a chiding but amused look at that, and slowly, with two good arms between them, they got the stock into their stalls and fed and watered. 

“Mr. Tanner isn’t going to stay, is he?” Ace asked as they prepared dinner in advance of the Texan’s arrival. Uncle Ezra sighed at his side, leaning against the work surface.

“I don’t think so,” Uncle Ezra admitted. “He took this job before there were other options available to him. I think he will probably ride on before too long, he told the judge he had some unfinished business to see to. He may stay in the area, we shall see. I cannot force him to remain Ace.”

“I know,” Ace said petulantly. “I just - I like him, most of the time.” Uncle Ezra chuckled softly. “He didn’t hardly tell me how you were at all Uncle Ezra!” Ace exclaimed agitatedly, slapping his palm against the counter. 

“He isn’t paid to keep watch over you or me Ace, only the stock,” Uncle Ezra reminded, and Ace huffed gently. His shoulders sagged, as Uncle Ezra again gave him a one armed hug, kissing the crown of his head gently. “I am sorry to have worried you Ace,” Uncle Ezra said gently. “I know these past weeks haven’t been easy for you.” Ace shrugged, his defenses coming back up. Uncle Ezra shook him gently. “You don’t have to hide from me Ace,” Uncle Ezra chided, and Ace pulled away slightly.

“I just - I just want to stay here and have other people leave us alone,” Ace said shortly. “I just want everyone to leave us alone.” Uncle Ezra sighed, pulling Ace back into his arms. 

“No one is going to take you from me Ace,” Uncle Ezra promised. “The other regulators don’t expect me to commit to that lifestyle. They know I have other responsibilities, and I doubt they find much reassurance in the fact that I will be assisting them this coming month since I am not a lawkeeper by training or inclination. Once the thirty days are up, things will be as they were.” Ace sighed, knowing despite his short years that such a promise would be impossible even for his uncle to keep. 

“Now,” Uncle Ezra said commandingly. “Let’s get supper on. I imagine Mr. Tanner will be back soon, looking to fill that yawning cavern he calls his stomach.” Ace giggled at that, and gladly set about assisting his uncle with the evening meal. As expected, Tanner rode in a few minutes before they were to sit down to supper, swinging down from Damnation and quickly seeing to the gelding, then cleaning himself up efficiently. 

They ate well that night on deer steak and wild mushroom and raisin gravy, fluffy rice and for dessert, a rum cake with the rest of the little waxed paper packet of raisins. When they had finished, they retired to the parlor as usual. As Uncle Ezra had been gone for a time, he had Ace recite from his lessons, first the _Iliad_ , and then Mr. Poe’s “Evening Star.” 

When he was certain that Ace had kept up his studies at least a little while left to his own devices, Uncle Ezra acceded to the boy’s requests that he play a few songs on the organ. He was handicapped by his injury, but he still managed to play passable renditions of “I’ll Twine ‘Mid The Ringlets,” and a few other parlor songs before moving on to Stephen Foster ditties, then, glancing over at Ace and raising an eyebrow, played the galloping opening notes of melody to Schubert’s _Der Erlkonig_. 

Ace grinned and joined him at the organ, watching the fingerings closely as Uncle Ezra began to sing the tragic tale. Uncle Ezra’s voice and the last notes from the organ stilling, Ace sighed, leaning against the gambler’s side. Gently, Uncle Ezra laid an arm around his shoulders, just holding him for a moment. 

“You lovely child,” Uncle Ezra teased gently, and Ace shivered, hugging his uncle tight. “On up to bed my dear. We shall be busy come morning.” Ace nodded, rising and bowing slightly.

“Good night Uncle Ezra,” Ace said with a smile, and in the hall he glanced out the window to see Mr. Tanner lounging on the front porch, face tilted up towards the velvety black sky. Ace climbed up the stairs and went into his room, washing his face before changing into his night shirt and slipping between his sheets. He was mostly asleep when the door creaked a while later, but alert enough to recognize Uncle Ezra’s light step. He loosed his hold on the pocket pistol that he still kept beneath his pillow, sighing contentedly when a warm kiss was pressed to his temple, and then the door creaked closed again.

The soothing, familiar murmur of Hush-a-bye stilled Ace as he woke to blank terror. He dragged deep, gasping breaths in through his nose, and slowly the safe, comfortable almond scent of Yardley soap permeated his senses. Ace calmed, hugging his uncle tightly. Slowly Uncle Ezra’s arm loosened about his chest, his uncle’s hand still rubbing circles of warmth into his back. 

“I dreamt you left me,” Ace confessed softly, and Uncle Ezra snatched him close again, embracing him tightly. 

“Never,” Uncle Ezra avowed firmly.

“You left me,” Ace whispered in accusation, and Uncle Ezra squeezed him gently.

“I shall never leave you Ace, not if I can help it. I made you a promise, and I mean to keep it. I know it hasn’t been easy. And it won’t be easy for the next while. But I plan to spend at least half of every day here with you. I would much rather be here full time, but I gave my word to the Judge as well, and if he puts me in prison, I - I cannot stay with you at all. He has threatened already to take you away from me, put you in an orphan home on grounds I am an unfit guardian. Do you understand my dear? I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“I understand,” Ace said sleepily. “I - I missed you Uncle Ezra.”

“I missed you too my dear. Now go on, back to sleep.”

“Uncle Ezra?” Ace asked timidly, letting himself be laid back in the sweet smelling hay tick. 

“Hmmm?” His uncle murmured in reply. 

“Uncle Ezra do you - do you think I could sleep in with you tonight? I mean - I know I’m too big to share a bed with you, but-”

“But nothing my dear. I shall gladly share my pillow if it shall ease your dreaming. It shall be like before, when it was just you and me, on the road.” 

Ace smiled at that, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stuffed his feet in his house shoes, and they padded hand in hand across the morning room into Uncle Ezra’s quarters. There, the light was still burning, although the wick was lowered nearly to the burner. The little volume of Longfellow lay abandoned on the pillow, and when Ace was curled at his side, Uncle Ezra read in a soft, rhythmic cadence.

> “The tide rises, the tide falls,  
> The twilight darkens, the curlew calls,  
> Along the sea-sands damp and brown  
> The traveller hastens toward the town,  
> And the tide rises, the tide falls.”

Ace sighed and curled closer, the words of the next stanza dulling in his ears until they were just sound laid over a steady heartbeat, and he slept. He woke to the stirring of birds in the windbreak, the stamping of stock in the stables on the other side of the wide yard. Uncle Ezra’s broad back was to him, ruddy dark hair curling over the collar of his shirt. Not wanting to wake his light sleeping uncle, Ace slipped from the bed as quietly as possible and padded back across to his room. He dressed quickly, then went down to put on the kettle. 

There was a half solidified pot of coffee on the stove, the kitchen fires burning warmly to verify that Mr. Tanner was already up and about. Ace quickly put on a pair of small kettles for wash water, then went to the pump and began his morning routines. He drew a few more buckets of cool water and hauled them into the house for their daily use, leaving one for drinking with a fly cloth drawn over top. The others he put in the large kettle, setting it on the burner as well, to make a fresh pot of coffee. Neither he nor Uncle Ezra could stomach the bootblack Tanner tried to pass off as coffee.

When the small kettles were good and hot, Ace hefted them carefully up the stairs, backing into the morning room. He poured out a measure of hot water into his basin, then went to his uncle’s room and set the kettle on the trivet near the wash stand, then drew a padded cozy over top to keep it warm. Carefully he shook Uncle Ezra awake, knowing that the gambler wouldn’t really wake fully until there was proper coffee to be had. 

“Shaving water’s ready and coffee’s on the way,” Ace said when Uncle Ezra’s eyes popped open, and with a jaw cracking yawn, Ezra nodded. 

Over the next few weeks, they settled into a routine. Uncle Ezra stayed at the ranch each morning, he and Ace seeing to the morning chores with Mr Tanner’s help. After breakfast, Mr. Tanner would head into town. Uncle Ezra remained until after lunch, overseeing the books and the house and any other work that needed to be done about the ranch, as well as Ace’s schooling. When they had eaten lunch, Uncle Ezra would saddle Hazard and head into town. 

Sometimes Mr. Tanner returned for supper, other times not until after dark. Ace was never certain exactly when Uncle Ezra arrived, other than it was after his own bed time. Sometimes he would wake in the darkness to feel his uncle press a kiss to his temple or forehead, but Ezra was always tucked up in his bed when Ace woke, and that helped tremendously. And once a week, Ace would go into town with his uncle after lunch and they would settle at their usual table and play poker, sleeping above the saloon. The next morning Ace would load up the wagon and drive the weeks supplies out to their spread.

Understanding that this was a special routine for the two of them, the other regulators stayed away from them those days. Some of them would come and go out of the saloon with nods in passing, but they never came over to socialize, and that was just fine with Ace. While he would not have admitted it to anyone, he was jealous of the time his uncle spent with the other men. Thus, the first two weeks of Uncle Ezra’s required duties passed.

At the halfway point, Ezra warned his adopted nephew, then invited the other regulators to take Sunday dinner at his ranch after Mr. Sanchez’s services. While neither Ezra not Ace had ever attended the church, they were aware of its existence. Uncle Ezra, having used the front of a preacher as a con once, had determined that he would see to his ward’s religious education as well as the rest, not wanting to have some of the harsher dictates of the good book presented to Ace without a good deal of context and discussion.

Upon the awaited day, Ace awoke early, thrumming with excitement. He had met three of the other regulators, being Mr. Tanner, Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Jackson, but there were three more he had not yet been introduced to. One, he knew, was the official sheriff, a Mr. Dunne. Ace knew him to see him, but as Ezra did not speak much about his duties, Ace didn’t know much about him, nor anything at all about the final two peacekeepers. 

Ace went about his chores quickly, able to use his healing hand somewhat now, even if it wasn’t yet good as new. When Ace was finished, he sat in the library for a while, seeing to his catechism until it was time to help make the meal. That completed, he set the table and then sat down at it, nervous but not sure what to do. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to concentrate enough to read more, and so he simply waited, wondering what sort of men the sheriff and other regulators were.

Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Jackson were the first to arrive, already aware they would be receiving a good meal at the Standish residence. The sheriff arrived not long after, and was soon chatting away amiably with the older men. He was a cheerful fellow, younger than most other sheriffs Ace had seen in his travels. But he supposed a fellow had to start somewhere, and sheriff was as good a place as any. Soon Mr. Tanner and the two men Ace had not yet met were the only outstanding attendees. 

“Clean as cats, the pair of them,” Ace heard Mr. Tanner say laughingly as the door opened and then closed, and then Ace was jerking back from the table, his chair clattering back against the wall as he rapidly stood. 

“Pa?!” Ace choked out, and the tall blond had stopped just as short, was staring at him wide eyed. 

“Oh,” Uncle Ezra said simply, sagging back into his chair briefly, then composing himself and standing. “Mr. Larabee, I - this is Adam Christopher. His mother -”

“Sarah died in a fire at our spread,” Larabee said roughly, staring still. “An’ I thought - God. I thought Adam did too. I - Adam . . . .” Ace swallowed thickly, frozen with disbelief. 

“Go on Ace,” Uncle Ezra urged, and the heartbreak in his voice was what got through to Ace. He turned slightly, staring at his uncle. 

“What about you Uncle Ezra?” Ace asked in a tiny voice. “I - you promised.”

“I did. I promised I would look after you until we found your father, that I wouldn’t let anyone else take you from me,” Ezra said, his voice steady, that poker face of his masking his roiling emotions. But Ace knew his uncle. He could read the devastation in those familiar eyes, like enough his own that no one had ever questioned it when he called the gambler Uncle. 

“You promised you wouldn’t let _anyone_ take me,” Ace challenged, and Uncle Ezra gave a sad, wry smile. 

“I did,” Uncle Ezra said, dipping his head in accession. “But I’ve no right to keep you from your father Ace. I-”

“I won’t let you send me away!” Ace demanded, stamping his foot and lurching forward to throw himself into his adopted uncle’s arms, nearly knocking the breath from the gambler. 

“Oh Ace, I don’t want to,” Uncle Ezra murmured softly against his hair. “But don’t you want to be with your Pa? I only want what’s best for you my dear. And it’s best that a boy be with his father.” Ace clung more tightly yet, shaking his head in negation. 

“I lied,” Ace said fiercely, glaring at Uncle Ezra, then at his father. “I don’t know ‘m, never seen ‘m before. Please don’t make me go?” The last was asked plaintively, and Uncle Ezra looked away uncomfortably, unable to meet his eyes. Ace felt the solid frame in his arms shudder with emotion.

“Please don’t make this harder than it must be my dear,” Uncle Ezra said gruffly, gently wrapping his fingers around Ace’s narrow wrists. Inexorably he unwound the boy’s arms from around his waist, then steered him by the shoulders to Larabee. Ezra knelt, catching Ace’s chin and forcing their eyes to meet. Ace swallowed thickly, his own eyes leaking as he watched the equally silent tears trail down his guardian’s face. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me Ace. And you’ll always have a home with me, always. But a boy needs a father.” Ace let out a sob and wrapped his arms around Uncle Ezra’s neck, his entire form shaking. “Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said, soft and heart broken, and Ace just sobbed more loudly. 

“Aw, hell Ezra,” Larabee said gruffly. “I can’t - why don’t we go on in the other room. The rest of you start supper without us.” Ace clung as his uncle gathered him up, standing and leading the way through to the wide parlor. Larabee followed behind, and Ace stole looks up at him, trying to reconcile this hard, black clad man with his beloved father, with his laughter and smiles. 

“Is it really you Pa?” Ace asked as Uncle Ezra set him on the sofa, then sat next to him. 

“Yeah squirt, it’s really me,” Larabee said with a broken little smile. “I - I can’t believe I really found you. Damn.”

“Language Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra chided idly, earning a glare from the taller man that didn’t seem to phase him at all. Larabee sighed then, and a slow shadow of a smile broke over his face. And there, there Ace finally began to recognize his father. 

“Are you gonna take me away from Uncle Ezra?” Ace asked, his voice quavering uncertainly even as he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders with defiance.

“No son,” Pa said gently, and Uncle Ezra stiffened beside him, head swiveling up to stare at Pa fixedly. “I figure Ezra’s done right by you, given you a home here. I - I can’t give you that right now. Hell, I had been thinking on asking whether Ezra was looking to take on another man to help around the place.”

“Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said softly, his tone pleading, and Pa gave a twisted little smile. 

“God’s honest truth Ezra,” Pa said. “You’ve been real good to my boy, any fool can see that, and my momma din’t raise no fools. Vin’s told me how you dote on the boy, an’ how good ya been to Vin ‘imself since your paths crossed. I’ll admit, didn’t think much of you at first, thought you were some fancy planter with no common sense at all. But you proved yourself at the village, an’ more than again these past few weeks. If you’ve got work for another man, I’d be glad to throw in with you. Although, Buck may follow after me. He’s loyal like that.” Uncle Ezra hugged Ace one armed, then let him go to reach out and offer his hand to Pa.

“I’d be more than happy to have your help Mr. Larabee,” Ezra said softly. “I - I imagine I would do nearly anything to assure that Ace remained with me, and if taking you on as a hand is the price, it is one I will gladly pay.” Pa looked like he wanted to argue at that, but then he simply closed his mouth, taking the smaller man’s hand firmly. “The two of you should return to your suppers,” Uncle Ezra insisted gently. “I - I will be with you shortly, after I freshen up.” Pa nodded, offering his hand to Ace. Hesitantly Ace took the offered hand and stood, looking back at Uncle Ezra. 

“It’ll work out,” Uncle Ezra said with a note of promise in his tone, and then slowly stood, going to the sideboard and standing here, resolutely turned away. Ace looked back a few times, but the tense stance remained unchanged as his Pa led him back to the dining room. A while later Uncle Ezra returned, his face scrubbed clean and hair slicked back anew. He nodded silently as he entered the dining room, his fancy words having abandoned him. The others couldn’t seem to bring themselves to look at Uncle Ezra as he strode to his seat, so Ace made a point of meeting his eyes and smiling. 

Uncle Ezra smiled back at him sadly and touched Ace’s shoulder before retrieving his plate. There was no conversation, the silence strained as the gambler served himself at the sideboard, then sat, giving a little shake of the hands to settle the cuffs of his neat jacket and crisp shirt. With his usual flair he whisked his napkin into his lap, then took a sip of his beer. The rest of the meal was taken in awkward silence, and when they had finished eating, Ace silently gathered their plates one handed, Uncle Ezra helping him.

“Gentlemen, please, retire to the parlor and help yourselves to the bourbon if you please. I shall join you shortly,” Ezra instructed. Mr. Tanner, Vin, Pa had called him, looked back and forth between Uncle Ezra and Pa, like a dog with two masters, then shrugged and led the others into the other room. Pa was the last to go, his gaze lingering on Uncle Ezra, and then he turned and followed the others through into the parlor. Uncle Ezra sighed tiredly, reaching up with his good arm to massage his sore shoulder with a hiss.

“I’ll help you put liniment on it later,” Ace offered. Uncle Ezra smiled down at him warmly, squeezing Ace’s shoulder.

“I appreciate the help my dear. Now let’s get things cleared away here, before they start poking their noses places they oughtn’t.” Ace nodded with a little smile as Uncle Ezra winked and touched his finger to the side of his nose, and they quickly cleaned up the dishes. Uncle Ezra smiled at him gently before they left the kitchen, squatting to look him in the eye. Ace swallowed, knowing that what came next was deadly serious.

“You’re certain about all this? I - I’m afraid I’m very selfish Ace. I want you happy, would do anything to see it so. I won’t - I won’t stop you going with your Pa if that’s what you really want. You owe me nothing.” Ace nodded, then looked away and shrugged. 

“I don’t hardly know Pa,” Ace admitted softly after a moment, looking back to Uncle Ezra’s all too serious face. “I know you Uncle Ezra. I love you. You’d never hurt me, or leave me. He - he left me though. He left us and that man took me and gave me to Miss Ella.” Uncle Ezra pulled him into a gentle embrace. 

“I understand,” his uncle said simply, then kissed his forehead. “Let’s go, before they think we’ve run off.” 

Conversation stilled when they rejoined the others, but this time Uncle Ezra took it in stride. He opened a new conversation, gently prodding at the others until they were all talking with various degrees of comfort. Or rather, all of them save Mr. Tanner and Pa were talking. Tanner was obviously following the conversation despite his continued quiet, but Ace soon realized that his Pa wasn’t paying attention to anyone but him. Swallowing thickly, he went to the man in black and stared back for a long moment.

“Adam,” Pa started gently, and Ace drew back a step. 

“Ace,” he said, soft and a bit tremulous, but resolute. Pa sighed softly, scrubbing his hand through his short hair. 

“Ace, why don’t you and I go have a talk?” Pa asked, and Ace glanced back at the others. Uncle Ezra caught his eye and nodded, giving his approval. Ace sighed and nodded for them both, then led the way out the front door and around the house to the stables.


	5. Black King, Red King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ace is reacquainted with his Pa

Pa rode a different horse these days, not old Deacon, who Ace would have recognized. As they entered, Diamond whinnied in greeting, hoping for a treat. Ace went to scratch his mount’s nose, then opened the door to Rosie and her filly’s big box stall. For all that he loved Diamond, Rosie had been his first horse, and he was devoted to her.

“This is Rambling Rose,” Ace said, petting her soft pink nose. “She’s my mare. Uncle Ezra says that means I’ve got a half share in any foal she drops. This one, her name’s Rose Red. She’s by Shenandoah King, our stud. Hasn’t shown yet if she’ll be a three or five gait mare.” Pa nodded, reaching out to rub Rosie’s neck, then smooth his hand along her back and down her legs, checking her neat conformation by touch.

“Mighty pretty girl,” Pa said approvingly. “That gelding you say hey to yours too?” 

“Uh huh,” Ace said proudly. “Hearts and Diamonds, though I just call ‘m Diamond. Uncle Ezra won him at poker. We thought about having him stand as our second stud, but we didn’t know if he’d sire good foals, so we decided to geld ‘m instead. King’s proven, got good bloodlines.” Pa nodded, absently patting Rose. 

“You been with Ezra this whole time?” Pa asked after a while, and Ace looked over, feeling there was more to the question but not sure what.

“Only a year or so,” Ace admitted. “I wish he found me before. I -” Ace turned away, going to Rosie and petting her, then burying his face in her side. “I was so scared Pa,” he said softly, not looking at the tall blond. “The man, he came into the house, said he had business with you. Ma sent me to play in the barn, and I - I heard her scream. She screamed and screamed, and I was so afraid. I couldn’t do nothin’ but hide. And then, then she stopped. She stopped screaming, and she just cried and cried, and it was even worse.” A warm, heavy hand settled on his shoulder, and he turned to Pa, tears in his eyes as he hugged his father’s lean but surprisingly solid form.

“You weren’t there Pa, and the man - he took me away when I tried to get to Ma. Ma was cryin’ and crying, and the man just put me on his horse and rode away, and the whole place was on fire, and I could hear her start screaming again. I - I tried to fight ‘m, I did, but I - I was too little. He took me to Miss Ella, and she - she was so mad. She said she’d make the best of it, but I was supposed to die in the fire too, and what was she going to do with a dumb little boy? But later, she said she was glad she had me, ‘cause she knew it would make you happy, and she wanted to make you happy. She was always talkin’ about you Pa, but she wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

“Ella?” Pa asked. “What’s she look like Ad - Ace? She’s the one got that man to start the fire?”

“Think so. She acted like she was the boss of him, anyway. Gave him money an’ sent him away, told him if he couldn’t handle a simple farm wife an’ a dumb kid he wasn’t the sort she needed. I didn’t like her none. She was always dressed real fancy like, those kind of dresses Ma would always look at in books. But she was mean. She was always sending me away and telling me to hush and sit still, and she liked to gamble but she weren’t good at cards like Uncle Ezra. He whupped her but good, and then he let me stay with him, an’ gave me a gun an’ let me ride Hazard.”

“But what did she look like A - Ace?”

“She had curly hair, real black like Mrs. Potter’s. But she wasn’t nice like Mrs. Potter. She has little dark eyes, and a wide mouth, and she’d be pretty if she smiled some, but she didn’t. Not around me anyway. She just hollered an’ shook me an’, an’ Uncle Ezra says anyone who raises a hand to a child ain’t a lady, so he’d be perfectly in his rights to shoot her where she stood.”

“She - this Ella, she hit you?”

“Yes sir. Few times. I didn’t try to be bad or sass her, but I just couldn’t help it sometimes, and sometimes I weren’t bad at all, I just - I just got smacked anyway. That’s why Uncle Ezra kept me, ‘cause he said he wouldn’t let no one hurt me no more. Said he’d never hurt a child, and he wouldn’t either. He’s the bravest man I know, ‘cept maybe you Pa,” Ace finished, the last tacked on out of loyalty, but not strongly felt. Pa, after all, hadn’t been the one to save him. Uncle Ezra had. Pa sighed softly, cradling him close.

“Let’s go on back in the house,” Pa said gently. “I imagine Ezra will be worried where you’ve got to, an’ the others will be plaguin’ him with questions about you.” 

Ace nodded, taking out his fine lawn handkerchief to dry his face, then leading the way from the stables back to the house. He took Pa in through the back door, resisting the urge to pause in the hall and listen to the conversation within before he stepped into the parlor.

Uncle Ezra glanced over as they walked in, smiling as his eyes lit on Ace. Ace smiled back, crossing directly to his guardian and setting himself on the arm of his chair. Uncle Ezra shifted over slightly without comment, and Ace slipped into the chair with him, wriggling until he was wedged in tightly to the compact gambler’s side. Uncle Ezra’s arm came to rest on his shoulders, keeping him curled close, and Ace sighed happily and rested his head on his uncle’s chest.

Ace woke in his bed, terror struck but cradled carefully in strong arms. Ace inhaled deeply, calming as his uncle’s familiar scent cast away the memory scents of smoke and burning flesh. Uncle Ezra’s hands smoothed circles against his back, and he hummed a soft, soothing tune. Slowly Ace relaxed fully, sighing and rubbing his tear streaked face against Uncle Ezra’s night shirt.

“Sorry,” Ace murmured, only to be gently hushed. 

“You’re safe now Ace,” Uncle Ezra promised gently. “You’re safe with me, my dear.” Gently Uncle Ezra pushed him away a bit, wiping his face with a damp cloth. “Do you want to sleep in with me tonight?” Uncle Ezra asked, and after a moment, Ace nodded. This had happened a few times since Uncle Ezra signed on as a peacekeeper in town. But Ace’s times alone made him insecure, and he desperately needed the unconscious comfort of curling against his uncle’s side.

“Alright then my dear, up we get,” Uncle Ezra said, lifting him carefully with a single arm, not trusting his game shoulder fully with such a precious burden. Ace threw his arms about Uncle Ezra’s neck, feeling the shift of hard packed muscle as the gambler carried him across the morning room into his own quarters. Uncle Ezra set him into the bed, then crawled in with him. “Alright?” the gambler asked softly, and Ace nodded, then curled up tight to his uncle’s broad chest. 

“Don’t leave me?” Ace asked sleepily. 

“Never,” Uncle Ezra promised gruffly, kissing his forehead, and with a sigh, Ace allowed himself to fall back asleep. He woke them both again a few hours later, crying out softly in his sleep. “Hush, hush,” Uncle Ezra crooned, then looked past him. Ace blinked, seeing the light cast into the room, and knew one of the others had looked in on them. “I have you my dear,” Uncle Ezra soothed. “I have you, I won’t let her take you away. You’re safe now my dear.”

“Pa?” Ace asked tremulously, and Uncle Ezra smiled. 

“Right outside the door my dear, watching over us,” Uncle Ezra promised gently, and Ace sighed contentedly and settled, slipping once again into sleep as Uncle Ezra kissed him goodnight. He didn’t wake again until the house was stirring about them. But as promised, Uncle Ezra was still laid at his side. The gambler’s eyes were heavy lidded with weariness, but still he smiled at Ace as the boy woke.

“Morning,” Ace rasped, and Uncle Ezra’s smile widened. 

“Yes my dear, it is,” Ezra said, then yawned widely. “Up you get, I’ll be right behind you.” Ace nodded and slipped from the bed, passing through the morning room to go to his quarters. 

Quickly Ace dressed in his sturdy but well cut working clothes after he washed his face and combed back his lengthening hair. The sun had put streaks of gold in his coppery locks and bronzed his face, making him look a bit more like Pa. 

Ace smiled at his reflection in the little mirror, double checked his guns proudly, then went to do his chores. A few hours later, Ace strolled across the master suite to make sure Uncle Ezra actually got up. He knew his uncle didn’t rest very well when sharing a bed with him, worrying too much to sleep properly. In deference to that, Ace had left Uncle Ezra to rest when he didn’t soon follow out to the yard earlier.

As Ace had half expected, Uncle Ezra had dozed back off, laid out in an exhausted, inelegant sprawl. Surprisingly, Pa was perched on the side of the bed, a pair of steaming mugs of coffee near at hand. Pa’s long fingers carded gently through Uncle Ezra’s thick hair, smoothing it over the curve of his skull. A low sigh eased out of Pa, and he bent low, kissing Uncle Ezra’s temple. 

“Come on Ezra, wake up,” Pa murmured gently, his thumb trailing along Ezra’s jawline.

“Mr. Larabee?” Uncle Ezra asked sleepily, his voice rough and confused. 

“Brought ya coffee,” Pa said. “Come on. Before the boy wears a hole in the floor.” Slowly Uncle Ezra blinked more fully awake, reaching for the coffee and sipping it slowly, eyes slit with pleasure. 

“Thank you Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said, slowly pushing himself up to sitting, shifting the pillows into place behind his back. “What have I done to deserve such luxury? I certainly don’t expect to be waited upon hand and foot.” Pa laughed softly, picking up another mug of coffee and sipping at it. Uncle Ezra smiled over his coffee as he waited, and Pa finally shrugged.

“Didn’t figure you’d rested too well,” Pa said, and Uncle Ezra flushed slightly, ducking his head. 

“No,” Ezra said simply, then glanced over at Ace. “Did you rest better my dear?” Ace nodded, blushing hotly at the affectionate tone. Somehow it seemed much too private a thing to be said in front of Pa. 

“Yes sir,” Ace said, addressing them both. “I already got the eggs and milked Nana and turned her out. I was just coming to wake you Uncle Ezra, an’ then turn out the horses.”

“And I worried you shouldn’t be able to run this place without me,” Uncle Ezra teased. “I believe I shall spend my days in leisure, with you as my factor to look after things.” Ace grinned and shrugged. “Don’t turn them all out,” Uncle Ezra said more seriously. “I’ve had some inquiries, a few of the cowhands have expressed an interest in looking over the stock we confiscated from the bandits. I believe we should step up our training, make sure they’re getting proper remounts.” 

“I noticed you use a real gentle bit on that circus pony of yours,” Pa said, half tease and half question, and Uncle Ezra smiled proudly. 

“All of the stock is trained up with bosal and mecate, and I prefer to use a mild mouthpiece at all on my mounts, or a sidepull without a mouthpiece if possible. Too many times I’ve seen a good, spirited mount ruined by damage done to the mouth or fear due to a harsh bit. Certainly, if I were expecting to perform complex maneuvers, a different bit would be necessary, but I find it superfluous to the production of a good pleasure and working horse.” Pa smiled, shaking his head slightly. 

“You’re a good actor Standish,” Pa said. “You had us all fooled at first, thinking you were nothing but a no-account gambler. But I see through to you now. You’re a soft touch is what you are. You adopt children and old dogs and spoil your horses rotten and I bet you pet the barn cats too.” Uncle Ezra looked like he wanted to be affronted, his mouth opening, then closing silently before he gave up and laughed. 

“Hell, what were you accused of in Fort Laramie, helping an old lady cross the street?” 

It was meant as a joke, but Uncle Ezra stilled, his face blanking at the reminder of the sentence that had forced him to become a regulator in town. Most of the time he could ignore the troubles in his past, confident they wouldn’t follow in his train. But every so often a ghost spoke in his ear, and he was reminded that he had enemies enough for more than one man. 

“Aw, hell Ezra,” Pa said gently, the closest he would probably come to an apology. 

“Language Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said distantly, glancing over to Ace, then back at Pa.

“It’s no business of mine,” Pa said gently. “I’ve got plenty in my past I want to stay there, and no business asking after yours Ezra.” 

“You have every business Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra argued softly, despite that he quite obviously did not want to discuss that period in his life. “I’ve been in custody of your son for well over a year. I should hope you wish to know what sort of man I am.”

“I can tell just from looking at him you’re the sort of man who would never hurt a child, the sort that would do everything in his power to see that child happy and safe. I can’t ask for anything beyond that Ezra.”

“Yes you can,” Uncle Ezra said firmly, then glanced away, his eyes going distant. “I was arrested,” he said finally with a little smile. “For being all I have ever claimed to be. A southern gentleman with an uncommon skill at cards. Unfortunately, in Fort Laramie, when one either loses or wins prodigiously at games of chance, it is taken as given that they are a cheat. It seems your Federal government likes the pay of its soldiers to stay with the soldiers or go to their families,” Uncle Ezra said with a rueful smile. 

“As I was making it my business to abscond with as much government money as possible by relieving said soldiers of their earnings in increasingly rich games of chance, I was arrested. The charges were public drunkenness, being a public nuisance, and resisting arrest. The last of these, I will confess to. Once they got me to the jail house, I determined I might not live to see my court date if I were to remain within the jurisdiction. So I decided to leave the area, my bail notwithstanding.” Pa let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head with a smile.

“I’d guess they roughed you up pretty good on the way to the jail?” Pa asked, and Uncle Ezra flushed more pronouncedly, looking away. “That bad?” Pa asked more softly, and Uncle Ezra looked up. Ace could read the fear that lingered behind his brave front, and thought that just maybe the gambler had been lucky to get out of Fort Laramie alive.

“Ask the Judge some time,” Uncle Ezra said softly. “I will say no more of it.” Pa nodded, patting Uncle Ezra’s knee through the blanket, and that was that.

“Ace will show me how to take care of the stock,” Pa said gently. “Rest Ezra. I don’t think you’ve slept a full night since we’ve met, have you?” Uncle Ezra again blushed and ducked his head. Pa sighed softly, then stood. “Sleep. We’ll see you around lunch time.” Uncle Ezra lifted his chin and opened his mouth to protest, but a large yawn escaped instead, and the gambler blushed furiously as Pa chuckled. “Rest,” Pa urged gently, then looked at Ace. “Alright boss. Show me how this place is run.” 

Ace nodded seriously, dashed over to kiss his uncle, then grabbed his Pa’s hand and charged down and out of the house. In the yard, he pointed out the things that were his chores, the chicken house and coop, the garden, the goat and her bleating kid, the half-grown sow they would butcher come autumn. Then they came to the barn, and he introduced Pa to the horses he had not yet met. 

There was Hazard and Ace’s Diamond and Rosie of course, her filly Red. The stallion Shenandoah King in his big box stall. Hermione, Juliet and Cordelia and their yearlings Leontes, Hector and Perdita. The heavy broodmares Bianca, Rosemond, Reagan, Goneril, and Desdemona in standing stalls. The mules Duke and Earl, and the jennies Sweet Peach and Sour Cherry, recently bought and covered by King, and the as yet unnamed stock confiscated from the rag tag band of Confederates that had terrorized the Seminoles.

The mares, foals, and jennies, Ace told Pa, would be brought up to the far pasture. But the confiscated stock needed to be put through their paces. The former cavalry mounts could be sold once they were in better health and gentled for a civilian’s touch, the yearlings when they had a bit more polish on them, except the stallion colt Leontes who would become the farm’s second stud. Uncle Ezra was thinking about keeping the few mares that had been confiscated, but most of the remounts were geldings, and already there was interest from the liveries in both Four Corners and Eagle Bend in buying some of them for hacks.

Between the two of them, they soon had the stock all in the right places, and with those horses getting lessons turned out in the smaller near pasture, they mucked out the stalls. Or rather, Pa mucked, and since he only had one usable hand, Ace helped as he could, mostly just keeping Pa company. An hour or so after noon, hoof beats around the bend resolved into Mr. Tanner, Uncle Buck and Mr. Jackson. Ace glanced over at Pa, having expected maybe Mr. Tanner. Pa grimaced slightly, but patted him genially on the shoulder.

“Reckon they just want to make sure we’re all gettin’ on alright,” Pa said, and Ace gave him a skeptical look, certain there was more to it than that but not wanting to call his father a liar. Pa chuckled softly and clapped him more firmly on the shoulder as if able to understand that. “Go on and tell your Uncle Ezra. He’ll be wanting to make sure everything is up to snuff if he’s got guests.” Ace nodded, knowing it was true, then dashed off to warn his uncle. There was cold chicken enough for a light meal, and a loaf of bread from Mrs. Potter.

Bursting into the kitchen through the back door, Ace careened to a stop, grinning at Uncle Ezra. His uncle smiled back warmly, reaching out to deftly flip a tortilla with his fingertips. A kettle of rice and beans bubbled fragrantly on one of the rear burners, and a bushel of fresh cut nopales sat nearby, awaiting the attention of the cook. There was already a short stack of cooked tortillas in a basket lined with a clean cloth, more than enough for three or four.

“Mr. Tanner comin’ in with Mr. Jackson and Mr. Wilmington,” Ace said, then looked over the nopales more closely. 

“I’ve already got the spines out,” Uncle Ezra told him. “If you’d cut them the way Abuelita showed us?” Ace nodded, a soft smile on his face as he remembered the little old lady. He wiped the sharp kitchen knife, then carefully began to cut. When he had enough nopales, he also cut up an onion, then glanced at the string of dried red chiles. 

“Fresh would be better,” Uncle Ezra said with a devilish gleam in his eye, and Ace grinned back, then set down the knife and went to pick one of the juicy green hot peppers from the garden. It would be enough to give the food a bit of heat, and if, unlike Ace and his uncle, their guests were unused to such fare, it could be quite the kick.

Ace was back into the house before Mr. Tanner and the other men had their horses tied up, and quickly got the skillet heated, then tossed in the onions, nopales and sliced hot pepper. Soon it smelled quite good, and Ace’s stomach rumbled appreciatively. As he stirred, Pa came in the back door, face and hands dripping cleanly. Silently Uncle Ezra handed him a towel, and Pa dried off quickly, then rolled down his sleeves and buttoned and straightened his cuffs.

“Well, do I pass muster?” Pa asked Uncle Ezra with a little smile, and with mock seriousness, Ezra took a step and adopted a thinking pose. 

“You’ll do I suppose,” Uncle Ezra teased, then smiled and reached out, deftly tweaking Pa’s shirt so the collar band settled into place.

“Much obliged,” Pa said dryly, then glanced about. “Shall I set the table? Looks like you two have the food covered. Vin, Buck and Nate are just washing up at the trough.” Uncle Ezra nodded with a bemused smile, then flipped the last of the tortillas into the basket. 

“Would you show Mr. Larabee where everything is Ace? No need to put down a fresh cloth for luncheon, the turkey red is fine. And set the stoneware rather than the china, no need to stand on formality.”

“Yes sir,” Ace said, understanding that they would be eating casually today. Obligingly, he led Pa into the dining room and crouched down next to the sideboard. “Everyday dishes are down here,” he pointed. “Here,” he handed up six plates, then hauled up the silver chest. They only had one chest, which housed both sets of flatware. In keeping with the more sturdy dishes, he passed Pa the plain pewter flatware rather than the true silver. Once the places were set, he retrieved six silver capped terracotta steins from the tall breakfront, then led Pa back to the kitchen to fill them from the keg. By the time they tapped the beer barrel and filled all six big mugs, Vin was leading the other two men in through the front hall.

“Afternoon,” Mr. Wilmington called loudly. 

“If you’d please seat our guests Ace,” Uncle Ezra directed. “I’ll be in with the food in a moment.” Ace nodded, quickly sizing his uncle up. He was dressed neatly as usual, but his hair was a bit mussed and he was still in just his shirtsleeves and waistcoat. His deep red jacket hung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and as he spoke he was lifting the big kettle of rice and beans with a towel wrapped hand. 

“Let me help, Ezra,” Pa offered, and Uncle Ezra smiled tightly. 

“Much obliged Mr. Larabee,” Ezra said. “If you would take the tortillas and nopales, I will bring the chicken, rice, and beans.” Pa nodded, taking the indicated bowls and following Ace into the dining room.

“Gentlemen,” Ace called, and Mr. Tanner led the way, Mr. Wilmington bringing up the rear. “If you’ll be seated, Mr. Standish will be here presently,” Ace said, then set around the steins of beer he had placed on a tray for carrying. 

“I’ll take that son,” Pa said, and took the tray, heading back to the kitchen. He reappeared a moment later with the big kettle of rice and beans, soon followed by Uncle Ezra with the tray of cold chicken. Uncle Ezra had shrugged into his jacket and straightened his tie, and looked as dashing as usual. Ace smiled, more certain than ever his Ma would have liked the neat picture his uncle presented. 

“Please gentlemen,” Uncle Ezra said, waving his hand at the chairs as he set down the platter of chicken on the table. Ace sat in his usual place, but today Pa settled at his side. He smiled, glancing at Pa on one side, then over at Uncle Ezra at the head of the table. “If you would turn grace,” Uncle Ezra asked him, and he nodded, bowing his head and making the sign of the cross as his mother had taught him. At either side of him, Uncle Ezra and Pa made the motion in unison with him, as did Mr. Wilmington across the table.

“I’m afraid it’s only cold chicken gentlemen,” Uncle Ezra said when they had all chorused amen. “Rice and beans here, tortillas, and nopales with onions. If you’d serve yourselves and pass the platters, I’ll serve the rice and beans as the kettle is still quite hot.” Ace leaned up and snagged a tortilla, and soon had the rest of his meal wrapped up inside it to eat out of hand in the Mexican fashion. It earned him a long suffering look from Uncle Ezra, but no reprimand. 

After lunch, Pa rode back into town with the others, Mr. Tanner remaining behind at the ranch. Pa was back before too long, having gone back only to settle his accounts at the store and boarding house, and shove his few belongings into his saddlebags. When he returned to the ranch, Ace met him on the porch and very seriously told him that he ought to take the room that Ace had slept in in the Master suite at the front of the house. Pa followed him up, quickly getting the lay of the house, and didn’t fight the declaration. Ace had already moved his things to one of the other bedrooms, one with a window looking out over the barn and yards.

Things once again settled into a rhythm. If Uncle Ezra wasn’t at the ranch, Mr. Tanner or Pa were, and so Ace was never left alone. Around the time Ezra’s obligations to the town was complete, Ace had an appointment with Mr. Jackson on the day he rode in to sit in the saloon with Uncle Ezra. The healer declared the busted arm healed as well as it could be, although it had lost some strength. Pleased with the diagnosis, Ace played penny ante with his uncle, father, and Buck until supper, when he went to eat with all four of them. After, he sat and watched Uncle Ezra gamble with those who came with their wallets, and grinned as they left considerably lighter.


	6. Kings Full of Queens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are guests at the ranch

Once his obligations were taken care of and he had his pardon in hand, Uncle Ezra returned to the ranch full time. He and Ace still went in once a week to market, but for the most part, both Ace and his adopted uncle were happy to remain somewhat isolated at the King and Knave. It had become a comfortable habit since they had taken the place, and although Ezra was now more strongly tied to the town, he had no desire to spend a great deal more time there. 

So they got their gossip on their weekly trip in, and updates from Mr. Tanner and Pa, who continued on as regulators. The new routine was a simple variation of the one Ace and Uncle Ezra had developed upon first taking over the ranch, and it suited them well. Sometimes they would take longer trips into the backcountry, to hunt or simply explore, but overall they remained at the ranch.

A few weeks after Uncle Ezra’s time as a regulator was finished, and with the stock up in the high pastures where they would be alright for a few days without human oversight, Ace went about his usual business. He wasn’t too concerned about being left to man the ranch with just himself and Uncle Ezra, despite that he had become fairly used to the presence of Pa and Mr. Tanner about the place, and Mr. Wilmington’s frequent visits. 

Pa had the day off and was seeing to personal business, and Vin had the town along with Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sanchez. Mr. Wilmington and Mr. Dunne had the day off as well, and Ace had heard Mr. Wilmington say something about Mr. Dunne, flowers and girls. Ace didn’t really follow the conversation, had been too interested in his book at the time.

Once his chores were done, Ace settled into the newly repaired swinging bench on the porch, a pillow behind his back, a glass of half strength beer and cold meat and biscuits near at hand, and his book for company. He read happily for a time, following the twisting plot of Sir Walter Scott’s _Rob Roy_. When he was hungry he had his midday meal washed down with beer, then settled back into his book until he heard the clattering of a horse and wagon. Looking up, he watched as his father rode up the long drive, a prairie schooner rattling along at a good clip behind him. 

“Pa,” Ace said, looking past him as he drew up and seeing that the wagon was full of girls. He knew the type, with their painted lips and dishabille hair. They had always been kind to him in saloons and gaming halls, and he stood and approached a step or two, touching the brim of his neat hat. 

“Ladies, Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said, stepping out of the house to stand just behind him on the porch. 

“Sorry to spring this on ya Ezra,” Pa said. “But I couldn’t think of any other place for them to stay a few days while we sort things out at Wickes Town.”

“Ah,” Uncle Ezra said, going to the wagon and offering his hand to the girl holding the reins. “You’re shutting that man down I should hope?” Uncle Ezra asked, helping the first girl down, then offering his hand up to the next one. “From what I hear he takes terrible advantage of the ladies.”

“Hadn’t realized you knew the place Ezra,” Pa teased, and Uncle Ezra gave him a chilly look. 

“Ace, if you would show the ladies to rooms," Ezra said, not dignifying Pa's sally with a response. "I’m afraid they’re not much, but on such short notice-”

“We’re much obliged sir,” the henna haired woman who had stepped down first said. 

"Ezra Standish," Uncle Ezra said, bowing slightly over the woman's hand. She smiled broadly.

“Lydia," she introduced herself in turn, then looked over the others like a general marshalling troops. "Dress neat and plain while we’re here girls,” Lydia said commandingly. "And mind your manners." She nodded at Ace. 

The girls all nodded quite seriously, and, as they passed Uncle Ezra on their way to the house, they bobbed neat little curtsies. Ace took them upstairs, each of them lugging a heavy valise. There weren’t enough empty rooms for each girl to have her own, but they settled in without complaint, and then Ace was racing down to the pump to draw water for kettles so they could wash up.

For the next few days, Ace happily submitted to being fussed over by the coterie of women who had descended upon the house. He played the organ for them, and read with them, and played some of the more polite card games. They were a fun lot, and some of them even helped at the chores; the big Swede, Miss Anna, especially seemed pleased to wake in the mornings early and help Ace hunt eggs and milk the goat. She was a deft hand at both, and despite her profession, Ace thought she would make a lovely housekeeper or wife for some fellow.

“Trouble in town,” Pa said one day when he returned for dinner, Vin following behind. “Couple a’ Wickes’ men been through the other day, we scared ‘m off alright, but they came back today, took a more careful look about. Staged a distraction, but it might be time you ladies got gone,” he said, looking at Miss Lydia who had taken the foot of the table as if it were her right.

“Wickes won’t leave us be until he’s dead or we are,” Lydia practically growled, and Ace swallowed, reaching under the table and grabbing hands with Miss Anna. She squeezed his fingers gently, then let go and patted his knee. The girls continued with their dinners as if they weren’t hanging on every word, but Ace had learned their tells quickly. They were afraid, not wanting to go back to Mr. Wickes. The next morning, Mr. Tanner raced into the yard, Damnation lathered and blowing hard.

“Ez!” Vin called, dismounting and running into the house even as Ace came out of the stables. Knowing that his uncle wouldn’t want him to hear worrisome news and trouble himself, Ace set himself the task of keeping Damnation from overindulging at the trough and giving himself cramps. Soon, the other gunslingers arrived, their horses less worn but obviously ridden hard. 

Ace cared for them as quickly as he could, then tacked up Hazard, certain his uncle would be riding out with the regulators when they went. Once that was done, he slipped in through the kitchen and found Miss Anna and the girls in the parlor, huddling near the door that led to the library. Shouldering through their skirts, Ace hovered at the door, listening at the keyhole.

“Could use your help on this Ezra,” Pa said hopefully on the other side of the door. “We’re fresh out of ideas, and I don’t much like the idea of leaving Ms. Travis with that man any longer than it takes to ride out there.”

“You say he’s willing to trade her for the girls?” Uncle Ezra asked in clarification.

“Yup. But we all know that ain’t gonna happen,” Pa said, and Ace fought not to sigh with relief along with the girls. 

“So you need a distraction while a few of you go in and free Widow Travis.” 

“Hell Ez, you know more about manners an’ bein’ a lady than most ladies does,” Vin said almost teasingly, and there was a long moment of silence. “Walk awful graceful, too,” Vin said more seriously. 

“Mr. Tanner,” Uncle Ezra said softly. “Are you - if you’re proposin’ what I think you are, I - I must refuse. While I admit, I have donned many a disguise in my days, I -”

“Wait,” Mr. Dunne cut in. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Think Vin’s saying that ol’ Ez here might make a mighty fine lady, slip in an’ out that place with hardly a fuss at all,” Mr. Wilmington laughed. “Hell, that would be the damnedest thing. I’d pay to see it!”

“You’d have to Mr. Wilmington,” Uncle Ezra said coolly. “An’ far more than you’d be willing to part with. I’ll not do it. The women unfortunate enough to reside and ply their trade in Wickes Town are there for a singular reason, and if I were to accept this ludicrous suggestion, which I reiterate that I shall not, I imagine some _gentleman_ would soon discover I was not what I might appear to be. It does not seem to me that would be a welcome discovery, for either the gentleman in question or myself.” The men quieted once more, it sinking in exactly what Vin was asking of Uncle Ezra. Ace chanced a glance back at the girls.

“My stays and old fancy dress would fit him,” Miss Anna said softly. “He sings real pretty. Won’t have to pretend to be no soiled dove, just a singer maybe.” Ace looked at the girls, saw how scared they were, how hopeful that the men might figure a way out of this mess. Miss Lydia sighed, meeting Ace’s eyes. 

"But Wickes wouldn't recognize him even in his regular clothes, there's no need," Miss Lydia said.

Ace nodded slowly, trusting the girls more than the regulators to have Uncle Ezra’s best interests in mind at the moment. After all, the women were dependent upon the gambler, and rather in awe of his easy graces. Ezra was no longer a regulator, and even if he were, he was under no obligation to assist in this. There were no laws being broken by Mr. Wickes, not that Ace had heard.

“This Wickes won't know my face no matter what I wear,” Uncle Ezra was saying when Ace turned his attention back to the voices on the other side of the door. “I imagine all of your faces are known by Wickes and his men, and I will not risk one of the ladies going back into that place. It would completely defeat the purpose of our effecting their emancipation. While I agree a disguise might be helpful to infiltrate the camp, and they would not - they are not the type that respects a woman as a dangerous creature, nor would they think a man would be willing to dress as one, there's no reason to overcomplicate the matter.” Uncle Ezra’s tone made clear just how idiotic he thought it, to underestimate a woman, and then Ace was shooing the girls back from the door as footsteps drew near.

“My stays will fit ye sir,” Miss Anna offered when Uncle Ezra stepped out, and the gambler looked over the girls, then sighed. 

“We didn’t mean to listen,” Miss Emily offered earnestly. “But it’s our lives too sir. We’ve much more to lose in this.” Uncle Ezra sighed, then forced a tight smile.

“Yes Miss Emily, you do,” Ezra acceded. Then he turned back to Miss Anna. “I thank you Miss Anna, although it won't be necessary.” His gaze swept over them all. “Very well then,” Uncle Ezra said, then turned back to the men. “I shall meet you in three hours at the crossroads,” he said, then went on upstairs, leaving Ace and the girls with the regulators.

“I’m coming with you,” Miss Lydia said firmly, standing and twitching her long skirt so it fell properly around her. 

“No,” Pa said. “You’re not.” 

“It was my fault he took her,” Miss Lydia said more softly, her hands fisting at her sides. It was obvious she wanted to do something, needed to. 

“It's too dangerous,” Pa said. 

“It'd be better if you stayed with the girls,” Mr. Tanner supported. “Keep them together.” Miss Lydia’s dark eyes flashed fire, her hands clenching tighter in the fabric of her skirts. 

“But I can help,” Miss Lydia pleaded. “I know his type.”

“Lydia,” Pa said almost gently, but still implacable. “You're staying.” She huffed softly, and with a look gathered the girls up. They swept from the room like a line of hens with ruffled feathers, all sharp eyes and prickly shoulders. Ace glanced after them, then up at Pa.

“She’ll go whether you want her to or not,” Ace said with a shrug. “Miss Lydia don’t take bossing too well.” Pa sighed, reaching down to squeeze Ace’s shoulder, then glanced over the men. 

“Go on and get ready,” Pa ordered them, then turned to Ace. "If we're gone more'n a week,” he said, and Ace nodded.

“I’ll go to Mrs. Potter,” Ace promised.

“Good man,” Pa complimented, then knelt and hugged him tightly. 

Before long, Uncle Ezra came down in what was clearly a spare set of Mr. Tanner's clothes. The washed-out red shirt was too small across Ezra's broad shoulders, and the dungarees clung to his thickly muscled thighs. It was a good thing Tanner tended to wear his things a bit loose, otherwise they wouldn't have fit Uncle Ezra at all. With his hair ruffled loose from its usual careful coiffure and a pair of old, down at the heel boots, Ezra looked a different man. Pa whistled, and Uncle Ezra rolled his eyes, then crouched to look Ace in the eyes. 

"If we should be gone longer than a week," Uncle Ezra said, and Ace giggled, but nodded. 

"I promise, I already promised Pa," Ace said. "I'll go to Mrs. Potter." 

Ezra smiled, and hugged Ace tight, then went to saddle up one of the confiscated Cavalry mounts. Ace followed, untacking Hazard and putting him in the paddock.

The next hours were interminable. Ace and the women who had been left behind were all nervous, and they tried to amuse each other and themselves as they were able, but none could concentrate. Finally though, there was the familiar clatter of hooves. Ezra pulled up right in front of the house, and Ace wavered on the front porch, then went to help Uncle Ezra. He was disheveled and bruised, and he nearly went to his knees as Ace helped him down.

“Uncle Ezra?” Ace asked hurriedly, and the gambler smiled at him gamely. 

“Just a little bruised, my dear," Ezra promised, and Ace could see the shiner already beginning to darken around his eye. Ace nodded, and helped him up into the house.

“We’ll take care of supper Mr. Standish,” Miss Emily promised at the doorway to the parlor where the women had gathered, leaning in to kiss his cheek gently.

“Aye, you an’ the boy just sit tight, an’ we’ll call you down when it’s time,” added one of the other girls, and Ezra simply nodded, then let Ace help him up the stairs. Uncle Ezra quickly washed up and re-dressed in his own clothes, then sank into an armchair in the morning room for a smoke. Ace wedged himself into the chair with his uncle and held on, tension washing from him with the knowledge that the worst Ezra had was a few new bruises from starting a brawl.

Miss Anna made supper that night, and when it was ready, sent up for the men. It was a quietly joyous meal, just the ladies, Uncle Ezra and Ace. The other men had stayed in town that night.

After supper, Ace settled at the organ for a final night of company with the ladies. He played and they sang, and a couple of them twirled each other about the room. Ace could see they were trying to be happy and gay in the face of uncertainty, but he also knew that they had spent the empty hours while Uncle Ezra and Miss Lydia were gone to pack their clothing, all freshly laundered during their stay. They all kissed him and Uncle Ezra on the cheeks before bed, and Miss Lydia and Uncle Ezra exchanged a few soft words before each went to their own bed.

In the morning, Ace and Uncle Ezra did the chores as usual, the ladies helping out some with things about the house before the men carried down their things and packed them into the wagon. They ate a big breakfast, and Uncle Ezra pressed a few coins into each of the ladies hands as he helped them all up into the wagon. 

The hitch horses were rested and restive after a few days out to pasture, and Ace quickly tacked up both Hazard and Diamond. With all their guns about them, he and Uncle Ezra rode escort on the wagon into town, where Uncle Ezra went into the store on the ladies’ behalf while Ace stood guard. They purchased a few last minute supplies quickly, and as soon as they were done, they were riding out.

Ace tipped his hat at the other regulators when he saw them, and a ways outside of town, Pa joined them from one of the side trails. They rode escort until midday, when the ladies stopped to make a meal. It was late afternoon when they got to the rail head, but the trains were running into the night. Uncle Ezra purchased the tickets, although Miss Lydia insisted on paying at least a percentage of the fare, and then they sat and waited. 

Uncle Ezra dealt whist for the ladies, who were dressed in their most demure gowns, and soon enough the train arrived. Ace, Uncle Ezra and Pa stayed that night in a hotel, all three in the same room. Ace sat up at Uncle Ezra’s table a while, but was soon sent off to bed. He woke when Pa came in from the saloon, then again when Uncle Ezra slipped in more quietly yet.

“Peace my dear, it’s only me,” Uncle Ezra said, and Ace uncocked his derringer and slid it back under the pillow. Quiet as a cat even in his heeled boots, Uncle Ezra crossed to him, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Sleep dear one. We’ve an early start in the morning, followed by a long day, and we know how little either of us enjoy those.” Ace snuck a hug, and Uncle Ezra kissed him again.

“Stay,” Ace asked softly. “Sleep in the bed with me, I promise not to kick.” Uncle Ezra chuckled softly. 

“I know you’ll not kick dear one. Very well. Let me get out of my jacket and guns. I will certainly rest better for having a mattress beneath me. I’ve become rather used to being settled with you,” Uncle Ezra gently comforted. Ace smiled sleepily and dozed back off, and soon Uncle Ezra was nestled heavy and warm behind him, strong arms around Ace’s slender waist. “Good night my dear. Dream good dreams,” Uncle Ezra murmured. Ace sighed happily, and did just that.


	7. Seven Card Stud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pa levels up enough to unlock (more of) Ezra's tragic backstory.

Ace woke in the morning to the smell of coffee, and when he sat, he could watch Uncle Ezra humming as he went about his morning routine. It was like their days on the road, waking up just the two of them in their myriad hotel rooms, washing up and going down for breakfast. Uncle Ezra would flirt politely with the matron at the restaurant, and buy them peppermints from the store, and when they had relieved themselves one last time, they would swing up on their mounts and set off for the next town. But today after Uncle Ezra charmed the matron, they settled in at Pa’s table, where he nursed a cup of coffee as he waited.

“Horses are saddled outside,” Pa said unnecessarily, and Ace nodded. Their geldings had accepted Pa through sheer will on Pa’s part, and they gave him a bit of trouble yet, but not half as much as they gave other folks. 

“You’ve eaten?” Uncle Ezra asked, and Pa shook his head.

“Ordered, haven’t eaten yet,” Pa clarified, and a moment later the matron bustled up to take Ace and Uncle Ezra’s orders. Never very hungry first thing, Uncle Ezra asked for two eggs over easy and biscuits, fruit preserves of some sort if they had any, and coffee. When the matron said they had French toast, Ace asked for that, with plenty of cinnamon sugar and eggs and bacon on the side. 

Pa’s meal came first, biscuits and fried steak smothered in sawmill gravy, eggs and bacon alongside. They didn’t hurry, but they didn’t dally either, and able to set their own pace rather than match the rate of the wagon, they made good time. They didn’t stop in town, didn’t even pass through, just skirted around and went straight on to the King and Knave.

Pa cooked dinner, just rice and beans, while Uncle Ezra took a bath, the hip tub nestled up next to the stove to keep the water warm. Ace chattered happily with them both the meanwhile. When Uncle Ezra was clean and had dressed neatly in a fresh set of clothes, Ace scrubbed up as well. Pa took the last bath, while the food was simmering, and they ate over the turkey red day cloth, all at one end of the table, Pa sitting at Uncle Ezra’s left and Ace on his right. Uncle Ezra murmured the grace, and after, they went into the library, and Pa and Uncle Ezra sipped at the Bourbon.

“Who was he?” Pa asked after a while, holding the little ambrotype in the gold frame up. The frame glittered in the lamplight, and Ace knew the picture well. A double portrait of Uncle Ezra with longer hair and a softer, younger face, and a larger man with pale hair hanging in soft waves to his shoulders. They both wore Confederate officer’s uniforms, the other man’s arm around Uncle Ezra’s shoulders, his far hand reaching across his body and resting lightly on Uncle Ezra’s near knee, where it was covered in turn by Ezra's hand.

“Marcel Bennett,” Uncle Ezra said in a soft voice. “We served together.” Ace could tell there was more to the story than that. But he could also tell that Uncle Ezra did not wish to say any more. 

“And the girl?” Pa asked, indicating another ornately cased portrait, this of a pretty dark skinned girl wearing a low cut ball gown, a girl child with paler but still dusky skin seated on her lap. 

“The elder is Miss Hattie Bennett, the younger is Miss Helene Bennett, Marcel’s daughter and Miss Hattie’s niece. Miss Helene’s mother, Miss Ophelia, didn’t survive the war,” Ezra said, his eyes still soft with memories. 

“And Mr. Bennett?” Pa pressed. 

“He was killed a few years after the war,” Uncle Ezra said, and his tone closed off any further questions of that line. Pa nodded, not pressing. He set down the portrait of Uncle Ezra and Mr. Bennett and picked up the one that Ace had taken with Uncle Ezra in Durango. In it, they were dressed in their best suits, him standing at Uncle Ezra’s side. They looked like two gentlemen in the grayish tones of the print, the camera unable to capture the deep red of Uncle Ezra’s tail coat or the gleaming copper-brown of Ace’s hair. Uncle Ezra had paid extra for a few points of gold to be picked out on the tintype, their watches and buttons gilded attractively.

“We had cartes des visite made of that one,” Ace offered, and Uncle Ezra looked over, smiling as he saw the portrait Pa now held. Uncle Ezra unlocked a desk drawer and drew out the brown paper package, sliding out one of the cards and offering it to Pa.

“I know you’ve no need of my portrait Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said with a self deprecating smile, and Pa shook his head quickly. 

“It’s a fine likeness Ezra,” Pa said. “Of you both. I’d be proud to have a copy of it.” Uncle Ezra blushed and ducked his head, his fingers lingering on the card as Pa reached for it. “You’ll have to ‘scribe it for me,” Pa insisted, and Uncle Ezra took it back, dipping his brass pen and flipping the card over. _Ezra P. Standish and Ace Larabee, 27 June 1874, Durango_ , Uncle Ezra wrote in his pretty copperplate, then carefully blotted the ink and offered it again. Pa smiled and slipped it into his breast pocket. 

“Thank you,” Pa said, that soft, gentle tone he reserved for special kindnesses Uncle Ezra did him. Uncle Ezra blushed and dipped his head as he always did, then turned back to the desk and the big ledger where he had been settling the household accounts. Pa turned back to the little row of portraits, his hand stilling over the last pair in the series. The girl was lovely, in a sedate, old fashioned gown, a black lace mantilla trailing from the big comb rising above her glossy-haired head to lay over her shoulders. In her delicate little hands she held another photograph, of a man wearing the Confederate uniform. The white gowned child in the other image was quite obviously deceased, eyes closed in death and swaddled form wreathed in flowers.

“And them?” Pa asked, his tone gone heartbroken. Uncle Ezra turned, and Ace swallowed thickly at the emotion he wore so openly.

“My late wife and child,” Uncle Ezra said, standing to go to Pa’s side and pick the doubled frame up. “Carlota, and our son, Fontaine. I married quite young, Carlota was all of sixteen and I fifteen, while travelling overseas with my mother and one of her husbands. Our son was born three weeks after I went to war, and died before I ever saw him, taken by the scarlet fever. I was reported dead at Shiloh, and Carlota turned to - she had to work to support herself. 

“When I returned to New Orleans, she was dead. A friend gave me their likenesses, the only mementos I have of them, save the lock of Carlota’s hair that I brought with me to war.” Ezra touched his pocket watch as he spoke, unconsciously giving away the location of that sacred relic of his lost wife. Pa gently took the cased photographs from Uncle Ezra and set them down, then folded the smaller man into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Pa said gently. “So sorry Ezra. I - I must make things terribly hard for you.”

“No Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said, fisting his hand in Pa’s dark shirt. “No, you and Ace make things remarkably better than they have been in a number of years. I never knew my son, and I make no comparison between Fontaine and Ace. As for Carlota, I - I accepted long ago that she is in God’s hands now.”

“And Marcel Bennett?”

“He too, I have consigned to Our Father. Marcel was a great helpmate to me, and I shall always treasure his memory for that. But there was nothing I could do to stop his death once actions set us in motion upon that path.”

“You’re a stronger man than I,” Pa said gently, and Uncle Ezra shook his head, pulling away and setting himself to rights. 

“No stronger Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra argued gently. “Different, and with a different manner of dealing with my losses. Remember too, that it has been many years since their lives traveled alongside mine. Now. Let us speak of happier things. I will finish the ledger later. Perhaps Ace, you will relate to us the further misadventures of Mr. Crusoe?” 

Ace nodded, going to fetch the book off the shelf. Until it was time to go up to bed, he read to them from the story of Robinson Crusoe, Uncle Ezra lazing contentedly in his armchair and Pa setting just as contentedly on the sofa, long legs stretched out beneath the table.

After that, Pa tried not to talk about the work of the regulators, not wanting to draw Uncle Ezra in. There was only so much he could do to keep Ezra from hearing the town's troubles. Uncle Ezra always had an ear for news, took subscriptions to newspapers back east and in California. When necessary, Uncle Ezra would buckle on a gun to help out, and when Guy Royal came trying to scare them off their land, it was surely necessary.

Up until then, Ezra had made no real effort to meet his neighbors, except across the green baize of a poker table. When Royal dropped the name Wells as one of the other holdouts, Uncle Ezra set the name to memory. He soon determined the location of the Wells ranch and the character of the two women who lived there, and shortly, Ace and Uncle Ezra rode out to pay a call. 

On their way, they met up with Mr. Tanner, out riding patrol in that neighborhood. The three of them rode up together, Ace and Uncle Ezra in their second best jackets and creased trousers, Tanner in his usual buckskins. Mr. Tanner already knew the elderly Mrs. Wells, and made the introductions shyly between her and her fellow small time rancher. That taken care of, Mr. Tanner set about doing the work he had come out to help Nettie Wells with, while she led Uncle Ezra inside to talk about the local cattle barons. Ace stared plainly at the boyish girl who remained in the doorway, who stared back just as readily.

“Mind your manners my dear,” Uncle Ezra chided as he passed into the house, and Ace nodded, then slipped a deck of cards from his pocket.

“You wanna play rummy?” Ace offered by way of making peace, and the girl smiled, then nodded. She settled her long gun at her side, and Ace had left his in the saddle scabbard, but his Remington was on his hip and one of his derringers was nestled in his waistcoat pocket. Despite being at least a few years older than him, the girl, Casey Wells, wasn’t much bigger than Ace.

A little later, horses pounded into the yard. Ace stood from where he and Casey had settled themselves on the broad porch, and Casey did too, grasping her rifle up with her. Ace knew he couldn’t get to his long gun before the riders were too close, so he let his hand settle on his revolver. The door creaked behind him, and Ace caught the scent of his guardian’s aftershave mixed with the flour and sugar smell of Nettie Wells’ apron. A gun cocked.

“I done told ye Guy Royal, I don’t want ye an yer thugs on my land,” Nettie chirped, and Ace let his hand settle more closely on his gun. He sometimes practiced his fast draw up in the pastures, but he knew he wasn’t anywhere near as fast as Uncle Ezra or Pa.

“Well, fancy seeing you here Mr. Standish. You callin’ on Miz Wells?” Royal asked, dismissing the old woman with a single glance, despite the Spencer carbine she held steady on him.

“Indeed, I found myself desirin’ of company, and thought to pay a neighborly visit. I imagine your purpose here is the same, just stopping by to see how things are,” Uncle Ezra said dryly. Royal’s face pursed up like he had taken a sip of soured milk, then darkened further as Mr. Tanner sauntered around from the back of the house, long gun laid over the crook of his arm. 

“Din’t know we was ‘spectin’ company Ma’am,” Tanner observed dryly, and Royal barked at his men. They wheeled their horses out in a snorting thunder, Royal calling threats back at Ms. Wells. Her face was pale and spotted with high color when Ace glanced back at her, and he was certain something had struck home. 

“Any truth in that Ma’am?” Tanner asked carefully.

“It’s true that the bank holds the note on the place,” Ms. Wells sighed. “And I’m sure you can tell I haven’t the cash money to pay it off.”

“How much do you owe?” Uncle Ezra asked, that same soft, gentle tone he had used when speaking with Miss Lydia and the other girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is truncated, and in my drafts ends with a note that I meant to put at least one chapter after it and prior to what is the current next (and final) chapter. As I have no memory of what I meant to write in that chapter, we just jump willy-nilly to the last chapter after this.


	8. Wild Cards, Suicide Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which mutual caretaking seals the matter and we careen willy-nilly to the ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve reversed the episode order for Obsession and Serpents, as that works better for my continuity and it's my fanfic so i'll do as i please

Ace hovered at the threshold, watching as Uncle Ezra gently bathed Pa’s fevered brow. The lamp was turned down low, casting long, dancing shadows across their faces. Uncle Ezra sat stiffly, his bruised ribs paining him more than he had allowed to Mr. Jackson. In one hand he held the damp cloth he used to cool Pa’s face, in the other was clutched his rosary, which he had barely let go of since Pa and the others went after Miss Ella. Glass green eyes cut through the darkness like a cat’s, and Ace smiled tremulously, then slipped into the room.

“He’ll be alright,” Uncle Ezra said in the soft tones of a promise. “Your Pa is the strongest, stubbornest man I’ve ever met Ace. He’ll be alright.” Ace nodded, then settled himself at Uncle Ezra’s side on the edge of the bed. “He has to be,” Uncle Ezra breathed, using his fingertips to brush Pa’s golden hair back from his pain creased face. Even in sleep Pa didn’t seem to rest, his eyes shifting rapidly under the thin lids, his breaths shallow with pain. 

For the next few days, Uncle Ezra hardly moved from Pa’s room, nursing him gently. Ezra skipped his own meals to feed Pa, only leaving the blonde’s side to help with the chores of the ranch. Ace spent as much time in the sick room as he was able, nursing his uncle as much as his father. Uncle Ezra slept in the chair next to Pa’s bed, and sometimes Ace slept there with him, sitting on the floor with his head pillowed either on Uncle Ezra’s knees or the edge of Pa’s bed.

Finally, four days after Uncle Ezra and Uncle Buck brought Pa home, Pa’s fever broke, and he regained lucidity. Ace was sitting with him, Uncle Ezra taking one of his infrequent breaks. There was a shifting of limbs that seemed more purposeful than the fevered thrashing of the past few days, and Ace wrung out the cool cloth and wiped Pa’s face, holding his breath as Pa slowly blinked his eyes open. For the first time in days there was reason in those tawny eyes, and Ace couldn’t keep from grinning happily.

“Hey Ace,” Pa rasped, and Ace leaned down, levering Pa up slightly and holding a mug to his lips. Pa drank greedily, then sagged back into the mattress. 

“I sent Uncle Ezra to rest a bit,” Ace said. “Shall I get him?” Pa blinked again, then slowly nodded. Ace smiled again and dashed across the morning room, pausing to knock at Uncle Ezra’s door before letting himself in. The gambler was laid out near fully dressed on top of the covers, his face pale and gaunt with exhaustion and the pain of his own hurts. “Uncle Ezra?” Ace asked softly, and the gambler slowly eased himself over onto his back and then up to sitting.

“Everything alright Ace?” Uncle Ezra asked, shading his tired eyes with his hand. 

“Pa’s awake,” Ace said softly in response. “Think his fever’s gone.” Uncle Ezra was on his feet in an instant, swaying a moment as the blood rushed from his head. Carefully Ace nudged his shoulder under his uncle’s hand, and received a gentle squeeze of thanks for his trouble. On stocking feet Uncle Ezra followed him across the morning room back to Pa’s bedside, not bothering with guns or coat and hat. 

“Mr. Larabee?” Uncle Ezra asked gently, easing into the room and then laying the back of his hand against Pa’s stubbled cheek.

“Ezra,” Pa murmured, and Uncle Ezra sat heavily on the edge of the bed. 

“Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra started, then turned away, unable to continue, his voice too choked with emotion. Pa’s hand fumbled free of the covers and found Uncle Ezra’s, clamping limply over the pale fingers. “Mr. Larabee, I gave you my word once,” Uncle Ezra said softly, his face still turned to the window, his eyes seeing something in some other world. Finally he turned back, eyes focusing on the wan figure in the bed. “Don’t you dare leave us Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said, and Ace thought it was meant to be a threat, but it was too soft spoken, too wanting, and it came out instead as a plea.

“I won’t Ezra,” Pa said gently, his fingers tightening on those of the gambler. “I’m here to stay. I know how stupid I was, how vengeance blinded. Just wanted to get that bitch back for what she’d done to you and Ace and Sarah.” Uncle Ezra bowed his head, shifting his hand under Pa’s so their fingers twined together. 

“She hurt you far worse than she did me Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said softly. “She could have killed you, and what then? What would I have told Ace? Who - who would have cared for us?” 

“Oh Ezra,” Pa said gently, that soft little voice that always made Uncle Ezra look away with his heart in his pale eyes. “Come here, both of you,” Pa ordered huskily, and Ace slipped into the bed, laying himself carefully against his father’s uninjured side. Pa’s arm wrapped around him, and he glanced up through slit eyes as Uncle Ezra settled his hand on Pa’s face, his thumb stroking gently along the curve of Pa’s cheek.

“I had to do it Ezra,” Pa said, wrapping his fingers around Uncle Ezra’s delicate wrist. “Had to, for you and the boy. She - she needed to be stopped Ezra. She wanted you dead, Ace too, an’ you know it. She would have kept coming, until she’d taken you from me. I couldn’t - you’re my family as sure as Ace is, Ezra. I had to stop her before she hurt you.” Uncle Ezra flushed slightly, then sighed and laid his other hand over Pa’s heart, careful not to jostle his injuries.

“I can’t lose you Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said softly. “I’ve come to depend upon you far too much.” Gently Pa covered the hand on his chest, then lifted it to his mouth.

“You won’t Ezra,” Pa promised softly. “I won’t leave you. You, me and our boy, we’re a family.” Uncle Ezra let out a low sigh at that, then pushed up from the bed. He bent and left a lingering kiss on Pa’s temple then kissed Ace on the forehead. 

“I’ll procure something for your consumption Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said softly. “Do call out if you need me.” Pa nodded, eyes soft with care. Ace sighed and nuzzled closer against his father. It was strange, he thought. Here he was nearly a man, and yet he was acting more a child than he ever had while under the eye of Miss Ella. It seemed the past few years since he had met Uncle Ezra, he had grown more childlike, despite that he grew older. Having his Pa around only seemed to make him younger. 

“Figure a few days, I’ll be right as rain Ace,” Pa murmured softly. “Then you an’ me, we’ll take that ride I promised you into the backcountry, an’ you can show me the wild horses you saw.” Ace grinned. He had no intentions of catching any of the wild band, they were too lovely running free to try and tame, and Rosie and Diamond were more than enough to keep him happy.

“We’ll get Uncle Ezra better first,” Ace insisted, and Pa hugged him gently. 

“Yeah,” Pa agreed. “We will. Can’t let that man worry himself so much. We’ll have to behave ourselves better for him.” Ace smiled happily and settled, dozing a bit until Uncle Ezra returned with a tray. Upon it sat a stack of bowls and a kettle of something that smelled delicious. Ace’s own appetite had been a bit low since his uncle was hurt and his father disappeared, and now he darted up eagerly to unfold the tray table kept in Pa’s room for just this reason.

“I hope stew is acceptable Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra murmured, setting the tray down and then carefully opening the kettle to begin serving. “I’m afraid neither I nor the pantry are quite up to providing you with anything more substantial at the moment.”

“Hell Ezra, that bitch tried to kill ya,” Pa growled, then hissed as he pulled his wound trying to sit. 

“Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra scolded, abandoning the stew to help Pa sit up in the bed. “Please, you’re not well,” Ezra murmured. “Let me care for you, please.” Pa ducked his head in agreement, and soon Ezra was settled at Pa’s side on the bed, supporting his shoulders and gently feeding him. Pa took it with surprising grace, his eyes soft as they looked on either Ace or Ezra. “You must be good for me Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra murmured when Pa had finished, gently wiping Pa’s mouth.

“I’ll behave Ezra,” Pa answered in the same tone, then gently caught Uncle Ezra’s wrist again. He kissed Uncle Ezra’s knuckles, then the hollow of his palm. Uncle Ezra gasped softly at that, trying to pull away. Pa didn’t let go, just tugged Uncle Ezra closer and pressed another kiss to his palm, then one to the delicate skin at the inside of Uncle Ezra’s wrist. “I’ll behave, so long as you take care of yourself as well,” Pa murmured, and Uncle Ezra blushed brightly, dropping his head and then nodding. 

“I shall endeavour to nurse us both Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said, his soft, affectionate tone belying the formality of his words. “Now rest. Ace and I shall soon finish up.” Pa nodded, relaxing back deeper into the pillows, and Ace and Uncle Ezra put away their own suppers. 

“I’ll take the tray down Uncle Ezra,” Ace volunteered. “And bring you a book when I come back. You stay here with Pa.” Uncle Ezra smiled gently, reaching up carefully to pull Ace into a one armed hug. 

“As you command my dear,” Uncle Ezra acceded. Ace nodded and took the tray, carefully backing from the room. He cleaned up efficiently, but even so, when he returned, he found Uncle Ezra asleep in the chair, his and Pa’s hands tangled at the side of the mattress. Carefully Ace took one of the spare quilts from the chest at the end of the bed and tucked it about his uncle. Uncle Ezra shifted slightly, but didn’t wake, a clear indication of just how worn out he was. 

Slowly, both Pa and Uncle Ezra strengthened. Having been less injured, Ezra was more quickly back about his regular tasks, overseeing the ranch and going into town every few days to look in on his saloon. The other regulators came out every so often, Mr. Tanner sometimes bringing Chanu or Jonah, his friends from the Apache band that lived in a reservation the other side of town. He also usually brought game, which was a boon as Ezra was rather busy between running the ranch, overseeing the saloon, and nursing Pa, and Ace was fairly busy as well.

Some weeks after Pa was shot, he returned to duty, just in time to find a dead man with a powerful rifle in the hotel. They identified the departed as Julius Stutz, an assassin with a deadly reputation. As word got around, Uncle Ezra learned that Stutz didn’t work alone. His son had taken on the family business, and with the territorial governor in town for a rally on the subject of statehood, it didn’t take too much skill at deduction to determine the target. 

Wanting to keep Ace and Uncle Ezra out of the line of fire, Pa sent them back to the ranch, entrusting the money paid the Stutzes to Mr. Sanchez and the rifle to Mr. Tanner. That didn’t keep Uncle Ezra away. Knowing that every man would be needed the day of the rally, Uncle Ezra went in after he and Ace completed their morning routine. He dressed in his best red jacket, his revolvers tucked neatly into their places, his boots polished and hat brushed, then kissed Ace on the cheek and swung up on Hazard. 

That night, Ace stood with his breath caught in his throat as Pa slowly guided the livery wagon up the long drive, his big black and Hazard tied up behind. Mr. Jackson was sitting in the back, and Ace knew what that meant. This was the same way Pa had been brought home after tangling with Miss Ella. Uncle Ezra was hurt, bad. 

“See to the horses son, I’ll get Ezra into the house,” Pa directed gruffly. Nodding, Ace raced to see to the horses, holding up a lantern to see into the bed of the wagon. Uncle Ezra was pale, his face sweating, his red jacket stripped off and rolled into a cushion for his head. When he came back into the house, he raced up the stairs to the master suite, hovering in the doorway as Mr. Jackson gently washed away blood from wounds in Uncle Ezra’s arm and side.

“What happened?” Ace asked his father, and Pa sighed gently, gathering the boy and ushering him away from the door.

“Ezra saved Ms. Travis’ life,” Pa said, as if that might not have been the best decision. “Weren’t enough of us to guard the rally and the money and the jail, so he sewed up the money in his jacket and then stepped between Ms. Travis and a gun. Nathan says the money just might have saved his life, kept the bullet from going too deep. It was stuck up between his ribs, grazed his arm too. He’ll be might’ sore for a while, but he should be alright.” Ace nodded, knowing there were no guarantees. If the wound went putrid, there might not be anything Mr. Jackson could do.

“I’ll stay here tonight, look at it again in the morning,” Mr. Jackson said. “Needs to be kept clean. Fevers up, we’ll need to keep him cool an’ still, hope infection don’t set in.” Ace nodded along with Pa, his brain already thinking on ahead.

“I’ll go draw more water,” Ace offered. “Bring up a cold kettle. We’ve got feverfew, willow bark and Valerian downstairs if you need it.” Mr. Jackson nodded, and then Ace was off after Pa squeezed his shoulder. When he returned, Pa was settled in the chair closest to Uncle Ezra’s door in the morning room, Mr. Jackson in the chair next to Uncle Ezra’s bed. Ace delivered the water, then stood in the doorway and watched until Pa called him over. When he was close enough, Pa pulled him in, held him tight.

“He’ll be alright son,” Pa promised. “He’s the most fool stubborn man I know. He’ll be alright.” Ace nodded, wrapping his arms around Pa’s neck.

“I know Pa,” Ace said gently. “He promised. He won’t leave me. He always keeps his word.” He felt Pa smile against his forehead then kiss him gently. 

“Go on to bed son,” Pa murmured after a few moments. “We’ll have plenty of work in the morning to keep this place up as nice as he likes. Go on. I’ll call ya if’n I need ya.” Ace nodded and leaned up to kiss his father’s cheek, then showed himself off to bed. He woke a few times before morning, the night terrors back with his protector hurt. And with Pa looking after Uncle Ezra, there was no one to hold him and soothe his fears, not that he thought Pa would do that. Pa was fine with sitting with a sick or injured man, but he didn’t seem understanding of unnamed fears.

After he completed his chores in the morning, Ace made up a big batch of eggs, hoping that would be easy enough on his uncle’s stomach. He found Pa asleep in the chair next to Uncle Ezra’s bed, and Mr. Jackson was nowhere in sight. Gently Ace shook Pa awake, and tawny green eyes blinked slowly before focusing. 

“Morning Ace,” Pa said sleepily, then yawned widely. 

“There’s coffee downstairs,” Ace said. “I’ll wake Uncle Ezra for breakfast. It’s just eggs.”

“It’ll be fine son,” Pa reassured, then stood and stretched, his back cracking and popping. Pa leaned over the bed and kissed Uncle Ezra’s forehead gently. “Don’t you leave us Ez,” he murmured. “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Go on and get better now, ya hear?” He kissed Ezra again, on the cheek this time, then padded out. Ace heard him wake Mr. Jackson in the other bedroom of the suite, and then the two men went downstairs together. 

“Wake up now Uncle Ezra,” Ace urged softly, reaching out to wrap his guardian’s fingers in his own. “Come on, I’ve got some eggs for ya.” A hitch in his breathing, and Uncle Ezra blinked up at him in confusion. “It’s just me Uncle Ezra,” Ace promised. “I sent Pa downstairs for his breakfast. Come on,” he urged, and tucked his shoulder under his uncle’s arm. Gently he levered Uncle Ezra upright, then fed him a plate full of eggs and a two day old biscuit toasted on the stove top and slathered with Inez’s good orange preserves.

“Ace?” Uncle Ezra asked softly, and Ace leaned in, hugging his uncle gently. 

“Yeah Uncle Ezra, it’s me,” Ace replied softly.

“Ace, you have to be good now for your father. I-”

“You’re gonna be fine,” Ace cut off hurriedly. “It isn’t hardly a scratch Uncle Ezra. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Ace, listen to me,” Uncle Ezra insisted. “If anything happens, there’s a letter in my desk, you know where to look. Everything Ace, it’s all yours. Everything I have, it’s yours Ace.”

“Uncle Ezra,” Ace all but sobbed, and then Pa’s hand was warm on his back.

“He understands Ezra,” Pa said gruffly. “But you gave your word. Don’t you run out on us now. We need ya somethin’ fierce.” Ezra let out a soft, pained moan, and then Pa leaned over, pressing his cheek to Uncle Ezra’s and growling directly into his ear. “Don’t you dare leave us Ez. Don’t think I can bear for anyone else I love to leave me. You hold on now. Beat this Ezra. It ain’t hardly nothin’. You stay with me now.” When he drew back, he kissed Ezra’s cheek, and then his mouth, pouring his desperation into the wounded man. “Don’t you dare leave me,” he gasped against Ezra’s mouth, and slowly, weakly Ezra nodded.

For a week, Ezra battled fever. The wound wasn’t deep, but it festered painfully, made Uncle Ezra toss and moan and cry out for people who weren’t there. For Carlota his dead wife and Marcel, for his Mama and his Nana. In his more lucid times, he called for Ace, and clung to the boy’s hand, eliciting promise after promise that if anything happened, Ace would find the letter in the desk that made him Ezra’s heir. Finally, the fever broke, and when Ace went to his uncle’s side in the morning, Ezra looked at him with clear eyes.

“Ace?” Uncle Ezra asked softly, and Ace helped him sit, then held a cup to his mouth. Uncle Ezra took the water greedily, his hands fluttering like little birds when he tried to grasp the cup. “How long?” He asked, and Ace smiled wetly and shook his head, hiding his tears in his uncle’s neck. “Oh Ace,” Uncle Ezra sighed. “I’m sorry my dear. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you dear one.”

“I know Uncle Ezra. I just - you kept talking like you were going to leave me,” Ace said, voice breaking as he rubbed away his tears. Gently Uncle Ezra squeezed him.

“Never my boy. I gave my word, to you and to Mr. Larabee. You’re stuck with me, my dear.” 

Ace smiled and kissed his uncle’s cheek at that, then darted down to the kitchen to let Pa know the fever had broken and the worst was over. He trailed his father back up to the sick room, and stood in the doorway as Pa gently cupped Uncle Ezra’s pale cheek. 

“Gave us a scare Ezra,” Pa said gruffly, rubbing his thumb along Uncle Ezra’s cheekbone. Uncle Ezra closed his eyes against his tears, his tongue darting out to wet his cracked lips. Pa leaned in, pressing their cheeks together, then leaving a lingering kiss against Uncle Ezra’s cheek. “Was so afraid I’d lose you Ez. Couldn’t bear if that happened. Told you already. You’re my family now too. It’d kill me to lose you Ezra.” He pressed soft kisses all over Uncle Ezra’s face, and they were both weeping silently, Uncle Ezra’s hand curled loosely in the back of Pa’s shirt.

With the fever broken, Uncle Ezra pushed himself back up onto his feet quickly. He wasn’t one for laying abed, never had been. Oh, he didn’t much like getting up earlier than he had to either, but forced bed rest made him tetchy and ill tempered, and soon he was padding about the house, overseeing the books and Ace’s lessons, sending notes back and forth with Inez at the saloon. 

“Why’d you do it Ezra?” Pa asked the first night Uncle Ezra was able to come downstairs for supper, sitting cradled in a mound of pillows at the head of the table. “Is - is there something between you and Ms. Travis?” Ezra smiled slightly and blushed, then shook his head, taking a slow sip of beer as he gathered his thoughts.

“It wasn’t her I was shielding Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said gently. “I - I knew there was something off, something wasn’t adding up in the whole situation. I wasn’t comfortable leaving the money unguarded to find out more. So I hid it in my jacket and went to see what I could at ground level, and I realized, the target wasn’t the governor. After all, the easiest way to get away with murder is to stand your intended victim next to someone very important. Everyone will assume the shooter simply missed,” Uncle Ezra explained to Ace, then directed himself back to Pa. 

“Hopewell couldn’t afford the _Clarion_ as an enemy, but he couldn’t be seen as silencing Widow Travis either.” Ezra sighed and shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. “I knew that if I had simply called out, you would have tried to stop him,” Uncle Ezra continued. “But his gun was already out Mr. Larabee. Even you cannot outdraw that. And I - I could not bear the idea of you being injured again, not with you only just regaining your strength, and I - I’ve come to care a great deal for you.”

“Oh Ezra,” Pa said gently, then rounded the table and took a knee at Ezra’s side. “I mean it Ez, it’d kill me to lose you. Don’t take any more chances like this. Please Ez.” Uncle Ezra nodded silently, and Pa kissed his cheek gently. “Won’t let you leave us,” Pa murmured. “You’re too important to me, to Ace.” Ezra closed his eyes demurely, and then he nodded, his silent promise he would be more careful in the future.

By the end of the second week, Uncle Ezra had begun to take on outdoor chores, much to Pa’s chagrin. Ace was his willing accomplice, if only to escape the monotony of reciting the declensions of Latin nouns and engaging in conversational French. Not that he could escape all his lessons. And many of them he truly enjoyed. Even Latin wasn’t altogether terrible, he enjoyed reading Caesar and Marcus Aurelius and Catullus. But best of all was when Uncle Ezra and he settled side by side at the organ, their neat hands curving over the worn smooth keys.

“Are you teaching my son the waltz Mr. Standish?” Pa said teasingly from behind them one day, a few weeks after Ezra resolutely left his sickroom, and Ace and Uncle Ezra turned as one.

“Never, Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra teased right back, smiling broadly. “I am teaching your son to _play_ a waltz.” Pa laughed delightedly, coming over to rest his hand on Ace’s shoulder and squint at the music sheets. 

“Still don’t know how you manage to turn all those squiggles into music,” Pa said appreciatively, then squeezed Ace’s shoulder. “You play that alright without your Uncle Ezra sitting next to you?”

“Well enough I suppose,” Ace said, stealing a look over at his uncle.

“You play it very well indeed,” Uncle Ezra assured, then looked up at Pa. “Did you need me for something Mr. Larabee?”

“Nope. Was hoping I might get you to waltz, if you’re feeling up to it,” Pa said, a shy little smile on his face. 

“Mr. Larabee!” Uncle Ezra said, the shock on his face unfeigned. 

“Just one dance Ezra,” Pa said gently, that tone he seemed to have reserved for the two of them, all questioning softness and hope. 

“I imagine you shall wish to lead Mr. Larabee, and I must warn you that I am not used to following,” Uncle Ezra said, even as he slipped somewhat stiffly from the bench and offered his hand for Pa to take. He was still a bit bruised from his actions taken to protect Widow Travis, and Pa had taken the task of nursing him very seriously.

“You saying you won’t follow where I lead?” Pa asked gently, pulling Uncle Ezra into the closed waltz position with their joined hands, settling his other hand in the hollow of Uncle Ezra’s back. Uncle Ezra turned his face away at that, his cheeks pinking. “Trust me Ezra,” Pa said gently, then glanced over and met Ace’s eyes, giving him a smile and a nod to commence. 

“I do Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said in that strange soft tone that Ace didn’t quite understand yet, but Ace was already turning back to the little organ and carefully placing his fingers, so he couldn’t try and read the meaning in his uncle’s eyes. 

Ace played the waltz slowly, more slowly perhaps, than Mr. Strauss had intended when he wrote it. But when he was through with the new waltz, he continued from memory into another he knew better, and it was some time before he ran out of waltzes to play. Letting the music fade to stillness, he glanced back over his shoulder. Pa was standing and holding Uncle Ezra as he had once held Ma after whirling her about the room; one arm curled tight about Uncle Ezra’s waist, the other hand cupped his chin carefully.

“Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra said in a similar soft tone, but this time Ace could hear the yearning, the confusion, because he could match the inflection with the look on his uncle’s face. 

“Mr. Standish,” Pa said gently, that same tone he had once used when he spoke Ma’s Christian name. Ace knew then what would happen. He smiled to himself, and Pa leaned down until his forehead rested against Uncle Ezra’s. 

“Mr. Larabee,” the gambler said, softer yet, but Pa didn’t answer. He simply shifted, sliding their mouths together into a slow, questioning kiss. For a moment, Uncle Ezra remained stiff and unbending, but then he gave a soft little sigh and leaned up into Pa, his hand slipping from Pa’s chest to lay about his shoulders. Another soft sigh, and Uncle Ezra pulled away enough to lean his head against Pa’s shoulder. 

“Mr. Larabee,” Uncle Ezra murmured. “We cannot-” 

Pa cut off the forming protest with another kiss, this one more insistent, his hand fisting in the back of Uncle Ezra’s waistcoat. 

“Sir,” Uncle Ezra tried again when they parted. “You cannot simply kiss me whenever you wish to still my arguing! I refuse to-” 

Again Pa cut him off with a kiss, and Ezra thumped him on the chest but did not pull away, not even after Pa shifted so his other arm was around Uncle Ezra’s waist and he could restrain that fisted hand.

“Go on to about your lessons Ace,” Pa said softly when they parted once more, not taking his eyes from Uncle Ezra at all. “Mr. Standish and I need to have a little talk.” 

“Yes sir,” Ace said happily, quickly closing up the organ. “Excuse me.” He dashed from the room to the sound of Uncle Ezra drawing a breath to argue, then being promptly silenced with a kiss and giving way with a soft moan of surrender. Supper that night was tense, and after Ace was sent straight to bed while Pa gently chivvied Uncle Ezra into the parlor for a glass of Bourbon. He heard them come up together later, and say good night in the morning room.

At breakfast after chores the next day, Uncle Ezra blushed every time he caught sight of Pa, and finally Pa crossed the kitchen in two steps and pulled the gambler close, kissing him firmly. Uncle Ezra melted into it with a low sound of pleasure, his back bowing to accommodate Pa’s insistence. Pa spoke soft and gruff in Uncle Ezra’s ear, and Uncle Ezra sighed and stayed in Pa’s arms, content to hold and be held, his head resting on Pa’s shoulder.

When Ace went to wake Uncle Ezra the third day, he found Pa in Uncle Ezra’s bed, both of them still sleeping. Pa’s bare arm was atop the blankets and wrapped firm around Uncle Ezra’s torso. Grinning, Ace slipped from the room as quietly as he could and went down to take the kettle off the burner.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @wrennette on tumblr and dreamwidth, feel free to come say hi!


End file.
